Last Resort
by rioludoodle
Summary: The unlikeliest of alliances aims to recommission a teenage Sector V when a sinister group of villains leaves them with no other options to turn to. Defeating the bad guys seems straightforward enough, but the repercussions of recommissioning leave difficult questions to be answered.
1. Ch 0: Prologue

**Chapter 0: Prologue**

It was with a dark chuckle that a 17-year-old Cree Lincoln finished typing up the specifications of a mission that she planned on leading the next day. She hit the enter key on her laptop and sent the message to the Teen Ninjas' resource manager. Very satisfied, she leaned back in her armchair and propped her feet up on a small stool.

Ever since her sister's decommissioning six months ago, it seemed like everything in the world was going exactly as Cree wanted. Abigail Lincoln, once upon a time the Supreme Leader of the Kids Next Door and before that the second-in-command of the all-star Sector V, had become a perfectly complacent younger sibling upon her thirteenth birthday. With the fighting and tactical skills that Abby possessed, she was prime recruitment material for the Teenz even after her decommissioning. It would simply be a matter of relearning mentally what her muscle memory still knew - a long process, sure, but the vast majority of Teenz managed it. All the benefits of KND training and none of the pesky attitude.

It would've been preferable for Abby to have defected before her decommissioning, but like with Maurice, it had been much easier to convince her to join once she had forgotten her old loyalties.

Best of all, the Kids Next Door had no idea yet that Abby had joined the Teen Ninjas.

This was a very good thing when the Teenz had been on a recruiting drive for several months now. The organization had been on its way to independence practically since its formation, but with the disappearance of Father and the Delightful Children half a year ago they had finally tipped over the line into self-determination. One of the first decisions they had made was to expand their ranks immensely, something Father had always forbade them from doing. Cree had immediately inducted her sister into the Teen Ninjas, and with Abby on their side they had a fantastic opportunity coming up as the last member of Sector V celebrated her thirteenth birthday.

It had been annoying how her sister had kept wanting to hang out with her old friends, especially during the first month when she was the only one of them decommissioned. But then came Nigel Uno's thirteenth birthday, and then Hoagie Gilligan's. As more and more of her sister's generation of operatives reached the magic age of 13, Cree had begun allowing Abby to spend more time with her old team so long as she understood the need for secrecy regarding the Teenz organization.

Cree was very glad that her sister understood secrecy. The children's visits to the Lincoln household had actually become more entertaining than dangerous as the number of KND operatives among them decreased one by one.

Particularly amusing had been the past few weeks, with Kuki Sanban left as the only member of Sector V yet to be decommissioned. The pathetic girl had glued a paper smile to her face as she continued to hang out with the same four friends she'd always had, despite them being unable to recall half of their time together.

Cree would laugh when the 12-year-old shot her glares while the others weren't looking. Still, tip-toeing around the brats was annoying, especially when their younger siblings were around.

But she wouldn't have to, starting tomorrow.

She was interrupted from her reverie by the unexpected ding~dong of the doorbell.

"Coming!" she shouted as she planted her feet on the carpet and made for the front door.

Standing on the welcome mat when the door swung open was a strange man whom Cree didn't recognize. Dark hair and dorky glasses, and wearing suspenders and a bowtie of all things. The pipe sticking out of his mouth rang a bell somewhere in her mind, but she still couldn't quite place how she was familiar with him.

"Hello," she greeted politely, "Can I help you, mister?"

He responded darkly, "You can help me by rethinking what you're about to do."

"What?" said the confused teenager.

"Don't play dumb with me, Cree!" growled the stranger.

She knew that anger.

"F-Father!" gasped Cree, "Where - What - You've been gone for ages! Sir!"

He raised an eyebrow, "Did you only just recognize me?"

"Uh, uh…" stammered the girl.

"I'll take that as a yes," said Father.

Cree gulped, "Um… You were saying?"

"Hm? Oh, right," he continued, "I know you're planning on recruiting Sector V for the Teen Ninjas after Numbuh 3's decommissioning. I'm warning you to stop right now."

"W-what? Why?" asked Cree, still shocked.

"Because I say so isn't enough for you anymore?" Father crossed his arms.

Cree was suddenly struck by the dissonance between her memory of a terrifying silhouette whose rage produced firestorms and the wholly unintimidating (and kind of dorky-looking) man on her doorstep. She simply could not reconcile the two conflicting images.

"Well?" asked Father.

She finally settled on a response, confidently answering, "No."

"No?" questioned the adult.

"No," Cree repeated, "No, I will not stop just because you say so."

"Someone's gotten a backbone."

Cree continued, "You stepped out on us six months ago. The Teenz are making our own decisions now. You're not the boss of us anymore, I am not going to step in line just because you tell me to for no dang reason!"

"And if I give you a reason? If I explain myself?" replied Father.

Looking at him flatly, Cree crossed her arms and said, "I'll consider it," in a tone that implied she was never going to change her mind.

"Where to begin?" Father scratched his chin.

Cree suggested, "You could start with where you've been."

"That's none of your business, little lady," snapped the adult, "I'm not here for me."

"Then what are you here for?"

Sourly, he answered, "I'm here to repay a favor to my insufferable brat of a nephew, if you _have_ to know."

"Your nephew?" Cree was incredulous.

Father grumbled, "Nigel Uno."

"... You're kidding."

Complete and utter disbelief took the place of Cree's scowl.

Father replied with a groan, "Unfortunately not."

"Well, why don't you want those brats recruited, then?!" exclaimed the teenager, "I would've thought you'd love this, with all the plotting and the cackling and revenge...!"

He shook his head, "It might be poetic, but they're owed better than that... Better than _this_."

"What are you on about?" asked Cree skeptically.

"Take a good look at where you stand right now," Father spoke cynically, "Do you want to be here forever? Locked inside the masquerade that took the better part of your childhood and your sister's? Given how fast you ran to my manor on your thirteenth birthday, I think you do."

Cree resisted the urge to step back.

Father bitterly continued, "Decommissioning is the only way anyone ever really escapes this crazy world of ours. Some people take the chance and some people don't. Now, _you_ might have chosen to stay in the game, but that doesn't give you the right to decide for those children."

Clenching her fists, Cree shot back, "And you think you have the right to tell me what to do when it involves _my_ sister and her pals? _You_?"

"..." silence from Father.

"Look," the teenager said with finality, looking away as she pulled the door half-shut, "I don't care what you think. Sector V is an asset to anyone who has them on their side. I'm claiming those troublemakers for the Teenz."

Father spoke again, "... It's really not in your best interests to do that."

The girl suddenly felt cold shivers crawling up her spine, and she remembered that it was _Father_ whom she was talking to. She met the man's bespectacled eyes, and at that moment she could see very clearly the powerful, terrifying villain she remembered.

"I mean this very seriously," he said, "Other than your sister, you will _leave those brats alone_."

Failing to find words, the frightened Cree simply nodded.

"Good," Father stepped back, "I was never here."

She blinked, and the door slammed shut in her face.

* * *

 _Encrypted Message Log:_

 _0832: Alright, alright, you've convinced me. They're high-risk, but valuable. You have the green light for your recruitment mission._

 _0855: Cancel it.__

 _0856: What? Why?_

 _0856: Because I say so. It's my mission and I'm canceling it.__

 _0859: Fine. You're the one who spent weeks on this, princess._

 _0859: Is it done?__

 _0900: YES, your stupid mission is canceled._

 _0901: Good.__

* * *

"Yo, Cree," said Abigail Lincoln as she came down the stairs, "Abby's gonna go say happy birthday to Kuki. I know we got that mission tomorrow, so that alright with you?"

Cree waved dismissively, not meeting her sister's eyes, and said, "Go ahead. Mission's canceled."

"Huh?" responded the confused 13-year-old.

Cree became aggravated, speaking more forcefully, "I _said_ the mission's canceled! We aren't recruiting your pals, alright? Go hug Rainbow Monkeys with them or something."

"Someone got up feelin' more salty than sweet," grumbled Abby.

The younger Lincoln sister brushed off her sister's attitude and unlocked the front door. She walked out of the house and quietly shut the door behind her.

* * *

"Hey, Abby!" Hoagie Gilligan was the first of the group to spot her, waving her over.

Abby joined her four friends sitting in front of Nigel's house - just because they no longer remembered anything to do with the Kids Next Door didn't mean they'd forgotten all the fun they'd had there just being friends. It had long since become habit for them to meet at the Uno household whether they were on the job or not. Decommissioning couldn't touch that.

"Hi, guys," she greeted, "Sorry I'm late."

Nigel responded, "That's alright. You still made it before Kuki's birthday trip."

"Yeah, glad ya made it, Abby," said Wallabee Beetles.

Kuki Sanban, her eyes watery and faintly red, was the last to speak, "Right… I'm really happy to see you, Abby!"

"Oh no, Kuki," Abby's expression became concerned, "Are you crying, hun?"

The birthday girl shook her head and replied with a sniffle and a wide smile, "Nah, it's just... allergies."

"I feel ya, Kooks," remarked Hoagie sympathetically, "Hope it gets better soon."

"Aw, shucks," exclaimed Abby, "That don't sound like fun on your birthday!"

There were nods of agreement and pity all around.

Kuki laughed, perhaps a little too forcedly, and said, "It's okay, really! I don't want this birthday to be a big deal, you know?"

Wally animatedly yelled, "Oh, come off it! Ya won a free trip to the cruddy Rainbow Monkey amusement park, ya oughta be bragging! It's your thirteenth birthday Kuki, you're never gettin' another one!"

"Wish we could've celebrated it with you, though," chimed in Hoagie.

Nigel made a suggestion, "Well, why don't we all go to the movies tomorrow, then? Our own little, belated celebration after Kuki's big day today."

"That sounds like a great idea," agreed Abby.

"Sure," Kuki gave her affirmation and then giggled, "But, uh, you know I forget little things like this. I'm such an airhead sometimes. Remind me again tonight?"

"Of course," replied Abby with a kind smile.

Just then, they heard the approaching metallic screech of a large vehicle starting to pull itself to a stop.

Kuki's grin fell off her face as she remarked, "Oh, they're early…"

"Just means you'll get to that park all the sooner," commented Nigel optimistically as a lumbering, muddy-green vehicle halted itself along the sidewalk.

The door to the "bus" slammed open and two children wearing strange helmets and eyepieces walked out. One of them gestured for Kuki to come with them. Kuki herself stood up slowly, her head downcast, and began walking toward the transport as her oblivious friends waved goodbye with bright smiles. Turned away from them as she was, they couldn't see her face, which she was very glad of given the fat tears rolling down her cheeks.

Abby called out, "Happy birthday, Kooks!"

At the last moment, one foot inside the transport, Kuki decided to take a good look at her friends one last time. She wiped away the tears with a sleeve and turned around, giving them the most genuine smile she had managed in months.

"Thanks, guys! For everything!" she exclaimed, "I'll join you again soon, and I promise I'll feel better!"

The two helmeted kids followed her inside the vehicle, and the door slammed shut with a bang.

* * *

The next day was sunny and moderately warm. A neighbor's cat stretched on the porch and a light breeze tinkled at an old set of windchimes. It was mid-afternoon, and few cars were driving down the road. The air smelled of freshly cut grass. Also faintly of skunk, but still mostly grass.

"Later, Cree!" Abby called back at her sister, who was leaning against the doorway of their home with a challenging expression on her face.

The elder Lincoln sister responded, "Later, Abigail! Don't you dare come back before six!"

"It ain't alone time with your boyfriend if Mama's in the next room over, girl!"

"It isn't a date at the movies if you have three friends tagging along, brat!"

All was right with the world. For a few years yet, at least...

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I saw somewhere that Sector V in order of youngest to oldest was confirmed to go as follows: Kuki, Nigel, Hoagie, Wally, Abby. The way I wrote this prologue has them in the order of Kuki, Wally, Hoagie, Nigel, Abby. I considered correcting this, but in the end decided to leave it as is. I will continue to use my order for the rest of this fic if I have to refer to their ages. **\- 7/17/2016**


	2. Ch 1: The World Turned Upside Down

**Chapter 1: The World Turned Upside Down**

Alone, Cree Lincoln stood with her arms crossed over the logo of her university hoodie as she scowled disdainfully at the unconscious forms of her enemies.

Well, her enemies once upon a time.

Wallabee Beetles: wearing his hair in the same bowl-cut as always, but sporting a new denim vest over an orange T-shirt and ragged jeans. Kuki Sanban: pretty in her mint-green blouse, pleated skirt, and dark slippers - her ponytail was starting to slip out of place. Hoagie Gilligan: a bit slimmer than he had once been, and dressed in cargo shorts and blue, unbuttoned flannel like a lazy tourist in summertime. Cree noticed that he had given up the aviator cap and goggles for a pair of yellow-tinted glasses. The last of her captives was Nigel Uno: unexpectedly dapper in a red, semi-formal dress shirt and tan slacks. The sunglasses were gone, replaced by regular prescription lenses in a rectangular wire frame.

The four minors lay sprawled on the wooden floorboards, separated from her by the solid, iron bars of a low-ceilinged cage. Afternoon was turning to chill evening outside the tall windows. Cree impatiently clicked her tongue and clenched her fists tightly. A sour expression spread across her face.

 _How pathetic_ , she thought with self-loathing, _that I've had to resort to this._

* * *

Hoagie was the first to wake up. Groggily, the 16-year-old lifted himself up into sitting position and rubbed his eyes. His fuzzy mind gradually cleared, and upon focusing his eyes the first thing he noticed was the metal bars surrounding him. The second was the groaning of his fellow prisoners.

"Oh my god, Nigel! Kuki! Wally!" He tried to stand and rush to the aid of the nearest of his friends but banged the top of his head against the tarnished, grey ceiling with a loud, echoing clang.

" _Ow!_ " He winced and felt his head as he fell back to a sitting position. "That's gonna bruise later…"

Wally came to not a moment too soon, mumbling curses under his breath as he pulled himself up with one of the cage bars as support. He forced his eyes open and, confused, he said, "What the…? Hoagie…? Aw crud, Kuki!" Wally snapped to alertness.

There was dried blood crusted on the side of the teenage girl's face - not much, but it stood out against all the green that Kuki wore. Upon closer investigation it didn't seem to belong to her. Kuki was already trying to sit up as Wally offered her a shoulder to lean on.

"What…? Wally…? What happened?" Kuki asked, disoriented.

Nigel sat up last with a groan of complaint, waving Hoagie away when the brunet offered him a hand. The bald boy regained his bearings a bit more quickly than the others had and rubbed at his sore neck. "Ugh… Guys…? Where- Are we in a cage?"

"Seems like it." Hoagie answered flatly.

"How did we get here?" Kuki asked.

Wally shook his head, "No idea, Kooks."

"Is this my _treehouse_?!" Nigel suddenly shrieked, his head whipping from side to side as he took in the well-lit environment surrounding the cage.

The view outside the windows certainly _looked_ like his neighborhood (the large and increasingly dilapidated mansion down the road was a rather distinctive, if run-down, landmark), but the appearance of the room itself… the place was _massive_ , constructed completely of giant glass panes and countless wooden planks. Various consoles made of junk and held together with duct tape were strewn along the walls. A veritable jungle of tubes, wires, and appliances hung from the ceiling. How anyone had the time or resources to build what was practically a second house in the tree in his backyard, Nigel had no idea.

Wide-eyed, he said, "Cheesy poofs, how... Did Joey and his friends do all this?"

"Glad to see you're all awake now," Cree interrupted caustically.

"Huh?" was Wally's startled reaction.

All four captives turned to look at the tall figure just a few yards away. She cast a dark figure and a long shadow in the orange light of sunset.

Squinting over the top of his glasses, Nigel identified the speaker, "C… Cree Lincoln?"

Hoagie puzzledly added, "Abby's sister?"

"The one and only." Cree stated, deceptively calm in her tone of voice.

Tugging at one of the bars of the cage, a frightened Kuki asked, "Why are we locked up?"

Oozing hostility, Wally tacked on, "Yeah, what's this about?".

A moment of silence as Cree's shoulders rose and fell. Quietly and tiredly, she sighed. Then, in a strong, sure voice, she spoke to the captive teens, "I need your help. _We_ need it."

"You sure have a funny way of asking for it," Hoagie responded, "Do you always ask people favors by locking them up first?"

Cree replied vaguely, "I'll let you out soon enough, so don't complain."

"Who's 'we'?" Wally asked, rightly suspicious of the near-stranger who seemed to be holding them captive. He continued, "Who the hell are ya working with?"

"You'll know them when they get here," Cree responded, "It would've surprised you to see us all on the same side."

"What's that supposed t' mean?"

"Shut up."

"Hey!"

She ignored him. She wasn't even looking at them anymore. Pacing back and forth across squeaky floorboards while muttering to herself, Cree was becoming more and more preoccupied. It was beginning to make the captive teens nervous.

"So, um," Hoagie hesitantly began, laughing uneasily, "Cree... What do you want our help for?"

Cree stopped pacing. She turned and looked at them, her gaze penetrating and hyper-focused on something beyond the four teenagers.

"... Abigail," she finally said, "I need you losers to help me rescue Abigail. The easiest way to explain it right now is that she's been kidnapped."

"What?!" They all exclaimed.

Hoagie was shocked, saying, "But she was just at school yesterday!"

Kuki worried, "Is she okay?"

"Shouldn't you call the police?" Nigel suggested frantically.

Cree snarled, "This goes way over the police!"

"Well, why us?!" Wally asked, panicked.

Cree laughed bitterly before answering, "Why you? Because the adult villains are busy covering their own butts, the Teen Ninjas are already _gone_ , and the Kids Next Door wouldn't help me even if they didn't have their own crisis to deal with!" she threw her hands in the air in frustration before glaring at the four trapped in the cage, grumbling, "Trust me, you're my last resort... And this'll make a lot more sense once you're recommissioned."

Nigel, Hoagie, Kuki, and Wally all came to the conclusion that Abby's sister was probably crazy.

* * *

They spent the next thirty-five minutes in a silence that was broken only by the occasional "Are you gonna let us out yet?" from Wally or Hoagie. Every single plea went ignored by an increasingly frantic Cree.

 _Where are they?_ she silently asked.

The four teens inside the cage sat in a loose circle as they alternately spent time afraid for their friend Abby and contemplating their own dire situation. They did not engage in conversation for fear of setting off another bizarre rant from their captor. With only their own thoughts and wonderings for company, their moods grew ever darker as the sun neared the horizon.

Everyone from Cree to Kuki jumped when an optimistic _ding~_ sounded from a pair of elevator doors behind Cree. Apprehensive and on edge, the caged teens watched as the doors slid open to reveal…

"Mushi?"

"Tommy?"

"Joey?"

Cree was as furious as her captives were incredulous.

"You're forty minutes late! What took you brats so long?!" she yelled.

"Hey!" shouted Wally, "Don't yell at my little brother!"

He was paid no mind by Cree, but Joey seemed to cringe in embarrassment as he did his best to hide himself in Wally's hand-me-down orange hoodie.

Mushi, dusting lint off her purple button-up jacket, answered Cree acridly, "The museum display was a phony, so we wound up digging through storage for the stupid module. It's not our fault you gave us bad information."

"Hmph," Cree acknowledged the girl with a grunt.

Tommy, the spitting image of Hoagie just a few years ago, eagerly waved at the trapped teens, exclaiming, "Hi, Hoagie!"

Hoagie wasn't so amused.

"Tommy, what are you doing here? What's going on?" he questioned his brother adamantly as he gripped the bars of the cage.

"Didn't Cree tell you guys?" Joey spoke up. In great contrast to his brother's boisterous personality, Joey was a quiet boy who had a tendency to speak softly.

Cree scoffed, "I told them what they'd understand and more, but they probably think I'm nuts."

"We're on a time crunch here, people!" huffed Mushi.

"Don't I know it," Cree grumbled, "C'mon, let's get this done with and make for the safe house. We still have a decent window."

She walked over to a yellow lever on the wall and pulled it up. The cage holding Wally, Kuki, Hoagie, and Nigel split into pieces and retracted into the floor, folding up like spider's legs. The four teens stretched and enjoyed being able to stand up.

"Uh, Cree?" Tommy appeared nervous while consulting his Game Boy, "There's a problem with the safe house. Those hijacked S.C.A.M.P.E.R.s we knew were coming are an hour ahead of schedule. They're already between us and point C."

Cree cursed under her breath.

"How much time do we have?" she asked.

"ETA, 40 minutes."

"Damn it, we're stuck," Cree quickly took charge, "Okay, plan B! We stay here instead. Once recommissioned, Sector V should have the old access codes to reboot their treehouse computer, and with that online this is the second most defendable place in the entire sector."

"But we don't have the recommissioning module!" exclaimed Joey.

"..." for several moments, Cree stared at him blankly. Then, she exploded, her rage shaking the very foundations of the treehouse, " _You don't have it?!_ "

The boy meekly elaborated, "I-It's probably still being repaired. He said he'd catch up to us."

Tommy complained, "See, this is why I said we shouldn't trust that guy to fix it!"

"A broken module is as useless as one we don't have," Mushi countered.

Hoagie tentatively interrupted the conversation, "Hey, uh, I don't know what this is all about, but it sounds like there are some really scary people on their way here, so... could we maybe leave and go home?"

"No!" Cree barked.

"Yeesh, you don't have to shout," Kuki commented sourly.

"There's no time for this, we have got to get out of here A-S-A-Now!" responded Cree.

Frustrated and fed-up with feeling like a fish out of water, Nigel yelled, "We're not going anywhere with you! Not unless we get some answers, so would someone please explain what's going on?"

Tommy leaped at the opportunity and eagerly babbled, "You used to be part of a super secret organization of kids who fight adult tyranny that you got mind-wiped about on your thirteenth birthdays, but now there's a bunch of evil adults called the Executives who are beating up other evil adults, and they trapped the Kids Next Door global command on the moon and kidnapped Numbuh 5, and now they're after you guys but we don't know why, so we're gonna help you remember so you can help us beat the bad guys!"

"... That makes no sense whatsoever," Nigel deadpanned.

"Who's Number Five? What about Abby?" asked Wally, bewildered.

"Why are the kids next door so important?" Kuki questioned.

"This is some kinda joke, right?" asked a skeptical Hoagie, "I mean, a memory wipe? ...The moon? That is so ridiculous."

Tommy exclaimed, "It's the truth, I promise! You'll thank us when you're recommissioned."

"You have to believe us!" begged Joey.

Cree spoke with urgency, "I know you have no reason to, but trust me when I say that you're in danger, and we're trying to help."

With a dismissive wave of her hand, Mushi flippantly tacked on, "You can take your chances with the Executives if you won't listen to us."

That drove a major point home for the abducted teens. The question of whether they believed their abductors/siblings' excuses or not was not nearly so important as the question of whether they would follow them or not.

"Okay…" Nigel began slowly, "So, allegedly, there are some very bad people who are on their way here…"

"... And they want to kidnap us," finished Hoagie.

Kuki added, "And you think the police can't help."

Cree grumbled, "You understand that much, at least."

Wally, feeling every bit as lost as his friends, said, "So what? We're on our own? What about our parents?"

Joey, oddly enough, saluted. The young boy snapped off a report, "Already evacuated. Same goes for all your families - even Granny Gilligan."

"Are you with us?" asked Tommy.

The four teens in the center of the room took a moment to glance at each other. Worried looks were exchanged between them, and then in unison, they said, "We're with you."

"Good," Cree nodded. Then, to the children behind her, she said, "Okay brats, we have thirty-five minutes to hole up somewhere secure. We can't afford to wait here and hope the recommissioning module arrives in time. Ideas?"

"Mr. Boss' house?" tossed in Mushi.

"It's on lockdown. We don't have the time to break in there," stated Cree.

"The elementary school?" suggested Tommy.

"Unoperational like the rest of the KND's bases," replied Joey, "What about the high school?"

Cree shook her head, answering, "Fried. Teenz are in worse shape than the Kids Next Door."

He felt a little in over his head, but Hoagie put in his own two cents nonetheless, asking, "Why can't we just hide somewhere until this blows over?"

Cree responded derisively, "Because they have access to KND tracking technology. It doesn't matter where you are, they'll find you. This is why we need a place that can lock up tight and preferably fight back. Without a fortress we are sitting ducks."

"Eh-hehehe…" Hoagie laughed uneasily, intimidated by the girl's demeanor. "Right, of course…"

The three children and one adult returned to discussing their options. Several ideas included a candy pirate's ship (which was not in the area), a soda bar (which was too far to make it to with only Cree's car and Tommy's rocket hat - now able to carry up to two passengers), and desperately, the Gilligan house (which while full of 2x4 tech, was nowhere near well-defended). The debate was quickly growing heated.

"Um… excuse me?" Nigel hesitantly interrupted.

"What?" snapped Cree.

Nervous and uncertain, he fidgeted as he continued, "Well, uh... I have a key to my uncle's place just down the lane. No one's lived there in years, but… I think the old security system is probably still functional. Would that work?"

"... Yeah," Cree said after a moment's appraisal, her voice dripping with irony, "The most defendable place in the entire sector? That would work," she clapped her hands together and gave a sharp command, "We'll explain everything once we're safe, so let's move out!"

"To F-Father's house? The Delightful Mansion?" Joey's voice was barely a squeak.

"Why do people always call it that?" Nigel wondered out loud.

* * *

 _3 years and 6 months ago…_

 **KND**

As the Supreme Leader of the Kids Next Door, Numbuh 362 had her own private office on the Moonbase. It was a sparsely furnished room that held only a few seats and a desk within. The only personal items that graced its walls were two pages of a calendar, taped side-by-side. One had half its days crossed out. The other had a date in the middle of the month circled in red.

Numbuh 362 gave a weary sigh to herself as she lifted a black marker to the first calendar. She caught a whiff of its sharp, chemical scent as she drew an squeaky X through yet another square on the grid.

Knock knock, at the door.

She capped the marker and turned toward the sound to reply, "Come in!"

The clunky, metal entrance opened, and in walked Numbuh 5 of Sector V. The door shut after her with an echoing clang.

"Good to see you, Numbuh 5," greeted the Supreme Leader.

A wary expression on her face, the girl cautiously replied, "Good to see you too, Supreme Leader, sir."

Several chairs were readily available, but neither chose to sit down.

"I hear Sector V has been having a wild time of it lately," said Numbuh 362 casually.

Numbuh 5 nodded, "Yeah, life's been crazy, baby..." she trailed off as glanced sideways at the calendar pages on the wall, and she said, "A month, huh?"

"Thirty days," stated Numbuh 362, "Which is actually related to what I want to talk to you about."

Numbuh 5 raised an eyebrow and simultaneously braced herself, "Uh-huh?"

The blonde girl tucked her arms behind her back and straightened her posture before she said, "I want you to be the next Supreme Leader."

"Sir - Numbuh 362 - _Rachel_ ," Numbuh 5 spluttered, all composure gone, "You gotta be kiddin' me, girl!"

Not a hint of a joke on her face, Numbuh 362 replied, "I mean it with all seriousness, Numbuh 5. I want you to take over once I'm gone."

"Oooh, no no no no no. Numbuh 5 wasn't built for this!" exclaimed the wide-eyed field operative shaking her head.

She quickly turned and reached for the door.

Numbuh 362 grabbed Numbuh 5's shoulder, halting the harried girl and saying, "Wait, please just hear me out."

"Why should I?" she responded hostilely, pushing her superior's hand away, "Baby, I got a million reasons to walk away from this, and ain't nothin' you say that's gonna change that."

"Well, if you won't even give me a chance to convince you," Numbuh 362 crossed her arms, "My plan B is a game of tag the same day I'm decommissioned."

Narrowing her gaze accusatorily, Numbuh 5 shot back, "You wouldn't."

"I would," Numbuh 362 didn't hesitate in her response.

The staring contest between them ended when Numbuh 5 grudgingly looked away and crossed her arms. She'd calmed down considerably.

With careful thought, she said, "Alright, Numbuh 5's listening. What on Earth makes you think she'd be a good leader?"

Numbuh 362 opened the door and gestured for her to follow.

"Come walk with me, and I'll tell you."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Character designs are more or less just TKG's designs of a teenage Sector V. Wonderful fan artist on Pixiv. Just google "TKG pixiv" if you want to look up some of her work.


	3. Ch 2: Toe the Line

**Chapter 2: Toe the Line**

The group of eight stood before the giant, rusted gate of the Delightful Mansion as a chill, evening breeze rattled its hinges. Tall, brick walls stretched far to their left and right, bordered by cracked, unkempt sidewalk. Weeds, vines, bushes, and overgrown grass had claimed the once spotless estate for their own; however, the greenery had yet to take over the straight, dusty path leading to the ornate front doors of the manor.

Mushi reached out with one hand holding a S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R. borrowed from Tommy, and cautiously pushed on the creaky iron gate. It swung open with little resistance.

"High school brats, stay ahead of us," ordered Cree as she locked her car parked down the road, "Don't run. Little brats, put away the 2x4 tech."

Nigel, Hoagie, Kuki, and Wally crossed the threshold of the property and began making their way toward the house. Their younger siblings walked in a tight group behind them, and bringing up the rear of the formation was Cree.

"Woah…!" Wally was amazed, "Can you _believe_ the state o' this place? It's like a haunted house."

"Creepy…" added Kuki, staring at her eerie surroundings with eager fascination.

Hoagie remarked, "This is kinda cool," he turned to Nigel, "I didn't know the old manor was your uncle's."

The bald boy toyed with the shiny, silver key held in his right hand as he responded, "Yeah, well, he's a really weird guy. Said I could have this key because I used to come over all the time as a kid, but I don't remember ever being here, really."

Wally interjected with a snicker, "Maybe that's 'cause of the 'top secret mind-wipe' we got on our thirteenth birthdays."

"Pfft," Hoagie laughed, "Yeah, right. That story Tommy told was just plain crazy."

Kuki worriedly professed, "Crazy or not, they say there are some really bad people after us."

"Let's get to safety first, then," replied Nigel confidently, "I'm sure we can get a reasonable explanation of all this once we have."

* * *

It amazed Cree how completely oblivious a decommissioned Sector V was. All over the wild tangles of the lawn and built into the dusty walls of the mansion were laser turrets and missile arrays and all sorts of other nasty deterrents to intruders. The weapons had been hidden when the group had first arrived, but as soon as someone had taken that first step past the gate the old defense system had sprung to life. Patches of grass had risen up to reveal tall laser weapons, the windows became shuttered with thick, metal sheets, tentacle-like claw arms sprang out of the bushes, and panels of roofing slid apart to uncover vast quantities of explosive ballistics ready to fire. Despite the obvious presence of the armed defenses, the ex-operatives seemed entirely unaware of the danger as they continued down the dirt path.

She was glad to see that Joey, Tommy, and Mushi at least seemed properly wary of the large laser barrels tracking them as they approached the mansion. Or in Joey's case, utterly terrified. The boy was shaking in his sneakers as he walked near the edge of the dusty road.

"I don't like being here…" mumbled Joey.

"Pah, chicken," taunted Mushi vindictively, "You weren't even old enough to join the Kids Next Door when this place still had residents. There's nothing but the defense system here now, you big baby."

"That's still really bad!" protested Joey, "And you know who used to live here…"

Tommy brightly said, "Aw, c'mon. You can't seriously still be scared of the Delightful Mansion after the day we've had!"

"But there are stories..." Joey shivered and hugged his arms to himself.

"Nothing but rumor," declared Tommy as he adjusted the strap of his backpack, "Trust me. I know the kinds of things you hear during cadet training, and they're all exaggeration."

Suddenly, Joey cried out as he tripped on the ugly roots of a dandelion and began falling over into the long grass. The laser turrets focused on him with ominous clicks, and the mechanical arms flexed their claws in anticipation. Tommy and Mushi froze in horror. Joey desperately flailed his arms, but he was clearly losing the battle to retain his balance.

Cree swooped in and caught him by the back of his hoodie, dragging the frightened boy back to the center of the dirt path. He was nearly in tears.

"Keep off the grass," she warned all three of the children.

* * *

They all arrived at the great wooden doors of the manor in one piece, thankfully. However, the turrets on the lawn were still aimed at the group, making those who were aware of them very nervous.

"Hurry up, _please_!" begged Joey.

"Y-yeah…" mumbled Tommy, watching the missiles fearfully.

Mushi remained silent but eyed the lasers with caution.

The moment that Nigel turned the key in the tarnished, brass lock at the entrance, the manor's defense system stopped noticing them. The blast shutters on the windows slid apart, and the laser turrets turned back around to point themselves at the gate. Tommy let out a loud sigh of relief.

The group pushed open both heavy doors and walked in. The lights flickered on.

Once inside, Cree immediately shut and locked the entrance while the others were busy taking in their new surroundings or retrieving a 2x4 weapon from Tommy's bag.

For having been abandoned for over three years, the mansion was neat as could be and unexpectedly well-illuminated. The place certainly had its fair share of grime covering every surface in sight, but there was not a picture frame out of place in the entrance hall. Chairs were still tucked into tables with perfectly centered tablecloths. A stack of very brittle, flaky wood still sat next to the fireplace. A yellowed newspaper still lay next to an armchair in the corner. It was eerie how unchanged everything was beneath the layers of dust.

" _Achoo!_ " Hoagie sneezed, disturbing a cobweb that hung down from a lamp on the wall, "Excuse me," he said.

"Man, you could choke on all this dust!" blurted out Wally.

Kuki wrinkled her nose and idly commented, "This place could sure use a cleaning. You can _taste_ how stale the air is."

"Never mind that," Nigel said, "Are we safe here?"

Cree answered scathingly, "Safe as we could possibly be when the Executives still know exactly where we are."

Hoagie complained, "That's not very reassuring."

"We're fine here for now," she revised, "Trust me kid, this place has seen battles."

"Seen 'em and lost 'em!" joked Tommy, laughing boisterously and then coughing as dust caught in his throat. He'd certainly regained his confidence quickly.

Mushi slapped the back of his head, shouting, "That doesn't help, moron!"

"That was years ago," Joey clarified to the teens, tucking his hands and a yo-yo into his pockets, "No one has managed to crack the defenses here since Father disappeared. The last people who got in at all were… well, um, you guys. When you were part of the Kids Next Door - the secret organization that fights adult tyranny."

Nigel skeptically raised an eyebrow, responding sarcastically, " _Right..._ "

"We promised you an explanation," Cree interrupted, "And now that we're safe, we'll give it to you. But you have to be willing to believe it."

"Are we really safe?" Mushi asked as she kicked at the locked front doors, "These doors look pretty flimsy if you ask me."

"Looks ain't everything, Sanban," replied Cree.

Tommy nodded soberly, grudgingly agreeing, "She's right. Not even a full KND assault managed to breach the manor after it was put on permanent lockdown. They eventually just decided to leave this place alone."

"Ah-hem," crossing his arms, Nigel called their attention back, "We'd like that explanation."

"Yeah," concurred Kuki with a huff.

"Uh-huh," grunted Wally.

Hoagie quietly nodded, a humorless frown curving down the line of his mouth.

"Right," said Tommy thoughtfully, "Man, how do we begin? Well, I already kind of told you everything…"

Nigel protested, "Nowhere near clearly enough!"

"I thought I did a pretty good job!" responded an offended Tommy.

Cree sourly took control of the conversation, "Tommy, shut up and start monitoring those S.C.A.M.P.E.R.s that are on their way. Uno, you and your friends sit down and listen up - and for Pete's sake, suspend your stupid disbelief and _take what we say seriously_. There are _lives_ at stake, including Abigail's."

Taken aback by Cree's sharp words and grave tone, Nigel, Hoagie, Kuki, and Wally simply nodded their heads rather than vocalize any response. They sat down in a line along the wall, whose faded auburn paint had several aging cracks. Tommy grumbled to himself as he plopped down next to an armchair and removed his Game Boy and a lunchbox from his backpack.

"Alright," she said, "Let's start with the Kids Next Door. It'd be ironic coming out of my mouth, so Joey, you give them the recruitment spiel. Tommy, decommissioning. Sanban, you cover the Teenz and adults."

Joey was nervous - that was plainly visible in his body language - but he spoke to the four teens with a sure voice, "I'm Numbuh 4.4 of Sector V2, and I'm a member of the Kids Next Door. We are an organization of kids dedicated to fighting adult tyranny around the world. We operate out of our treehouses and take orders from global command on our Moonbase. Using advanced 2x4 technology, we protect children from the oppression of teenagers and grown-ups alike..." he faltered before finishing more hesitantly and less rehearsedly, "And… and you guys used to be the best of us."

Cree motioned for him to stop, and then looked at Tommy.

With a melancholy look on his face, the younger Gilligan brother continued where Joey had left off, "The Kids Next Door decommission all their operatives when they turn thirteen - when they become teenagers. They forget everything related to the KND and fighting adult tyranny. That's what happened to you. But before you were decommissioned, you guys were _the_ Sector V! You were legendary - the best, most incredible team the KND had ever seen…! You were heroes, you just don't remember it."

Hoagie interjected, "But Tommy, you're almost fourteen. How come you know all this if your secret organization wipes people's memories when they become teenagers, eh?" He was partly curious and partly just looking for holes in the mad story that they were being fed.

"Eheh…" Tommy gave a nervous chuckle and scratched at his ear, "I quit and fell off their radar. It's a long story."

Mushi picked up the narrative with a scowl that looked oddly habitual on her 11-year-old face, "There used to be three big groups in the balance of power: the adult supervillains, the Teen Ninjas - Cree was part of them, so really you should hate her - and the Kids Next Door. The KND had fancy-schmancy 2x4 gadgets and treehouses, the teens had special armor and transportation, and the adults were all over the place with powers and weapons. A few weeks ago everything was normal; it was mostly just the teens and grown-ups against the Kids Next Door. The usual violence."

Wally commented, "It sounds like _no one_ liked the Kids Next Door."

Cree grouched an assent, "It was you self-righteous, snot-nosed brats against the world."

"How come we're in the past tense?" wondered Kuki.

"Because it's all gone to crap now, thanks to the Executives" answered Cree snappily, "They're a consortium of business directors who decided to step into our crazy world for reasons that we don't know. Eight days ago they crashed the Teenz communications grid and fried all their current tech with a virus. The other adult villains tried to welcome them at first, but the Executives started picking them off too. At this point, even the most powerful villains like Mr. Boss aren't willing to attack the Executives outright. Almost four days ago, they took over the KND mainframe and locked down the Moonbase with global command inside it. Yesterday, they captured my sister while she was on her way home from school."

"But why?" asked Nigel, feeling overwhelmed.

Cree replied with venom in her voice, "I said we don't _know_ why. We kidnapped you four to help us find answers and fix this."

Hoagie inquired, "And our parents? Where are they?"

"Safe and off the radar," answered Cree, "Thanks to someone who might have just left us in the lurch. We would've used the Kids Next Door if we could, but, well..."

Joey wearily elaborated, "The Kids Next Door is in pieces without our mainframe and global command. The treehouses are offline and all our vehicles are in the hands of the Executives. My teammates were halfway around the world on a mission when the system was hacked, and I have no idea what's happening to them now... We're helpless."

Tommy added, "The Teenz are basically disbanded, and the adults are all who knows where trying to protect themselves. You guys are the only ones who we can count on."

"Once we recommission you," said Joey with a tremble in his voice, "You'll remember everything. All your missions, all your enemies, all the skills you used to have. And then you'll help us."

"Just don't attack Cree right off the bat," Mushi warned them flatly.

A moment of silence as the four teens tried to process what they'd been told.

"This is completely nuts!" exclaimed Hoagie, throwing his hands in the air.

With a strained laugh, Kuki agreed, "Ha, I don't believe it either. I mean, _us_ , 'heroes'?"

Nigel shook his head, feeling lost as he said, "Absolute madness. There must be some mistake."

"Where's your proof? Of any of this?" challenged Wally with a raised fist.

"Grrr," Cree growled through her teeth, shoulders tense with frustration. She shouted, "You want proof? What's proof enough for you oblivious brats?! The 2x4 weapons your siblings are carrying? The giant treehouse we just came from? The lasers and missiles all over this property? How about _this_?!"

She raised her arms out to her sides as she activated her old Battle Ready Armor. Her baggy clothes became covered by tight-fitting, blood-red mesh as dark pieces of metallic armor enclosed around her wrists, shoulders, feet, and torso. Lastly appeared a mask and helmet, which Cree immediately retracted again to expose her face. She aimed her right gauntlet at a faded painting of the Delightful Children and activated the laser. _Pew!_ And then, where the faces of five dead-eyed children had been, there was now smoking ash.

"Proof enough for you?" she asked with a cold glare.

The fearful teens who had once been KND operatives of legend stammered and nodded.

"Y-y-yes!"

"Oh, d-definitely."

"T-t-totally."

"We buh-believe you!"

Kuki was on the edge of tears as she fearfully remarked, "You d-don't have to scare us like this!"

"Hmph," replied Cree, "Think of it as payback for punching me in the jaw, girl."

"You snuck up behind me with a tranquilizer gun!" Kuki shot back, suddenly much more annoyed than afraid, "And your blood got on my face, and that's _gross_!"

"Well, you-"

Out of nowhere, Cree was cut off by a loud knocking sound. Everyone turned and looked at the heavy, front doors of the manor. _Knock knock knock_ , again.

"... ETA on those S.C.A.M.P.E.R.s?" inquired Cree.

Tommy was bewildered as he looked down at his screen, answering, "A few minutes. They're still ten miles away."

The doorknobs wriggled back and forth as whoever was beyond the wooden barrier tried them to no avail. There was a moment of quiet. Then, to everyone's shock (but especially Nigel's), the lock turned and the door opened.

"... Uncle Ben?"

There in the doorway, surely enough, was Benedict Uno, better known by the nefarious alias of Father. His usually neat, starch white shirt was stained with dark smears of grease. His hair was messily combed, and his glasses were slipping down his nose. Held in one hand was a key, and in the other was a clunky device that beeped rapidly and closely resembled a calculator. The man had a large, threadbare satchel hanging off his shoulder. He was looking much more the part of a harmless uncle than a child-hating supervillain.

"I can't believe," whined Father, "That I've gotten roped this far into this mess."

Tommy frantically shouted, "Get inside! Hurry up and lock the door, you can see the S.C.A.M.P.E.R.s from here!"

"What?" The man looked over his shoulder, and in the dark expanse of the night sky, just above the silhouette of Sector V's treehouse, he saw there were several sets of bright lights approaching the mansion with frightening speed. He groaned, "Oh, _crud_. Whoa-!"

Cree's armored hand dragged him inside by the collar, and she unceremoniously shoved him at the four teens sitting along the wall. While he stumbled and caught his balance, Cree kicked the door shut and quickly turned the lock again.

"You don't have to be so rude," complained Father as he pocketed his house key and straightened his wrinkled bow tie.

Cree only glared in response.

"You're a part of this?" Nigel asked the man incredulously.

He adjusted his glasses and answered petulantly, "Well, _duh_. Who else do you think has to fix Monty's broken toys?"

That response only served to further confuse the boy. He mumbled, "Huh?"

"Never mind," said Father dismissively.

Tommy interrogated him, "How did you find us?"

Father showed him the calculator-like device, replying, "KNDNA tracker."

"A likely story!" exclaimed an overly skeptical Tommy.

"Oh, give it a rest already-"

Suddenly, a blast door crashed down over the front entrance and the windows became shuttered behind thick, metal sheets once more. The lights all throughout the mansion dimmed to the point that they were not much brighter than candles. With visibility now handicapped, the atmosphere immediately became taut, ominous, and high-strung. The silence felt heavy and thick like molasses.

Looking at the screen of his game in horror, Tommy whispered, "They're on the grass…"

 _Boom_ , came the first explosion. The sound was heavily muffled, but they could feel the shock wave in their bones. Next came the zaps of laser fire, every shot too similar and too close together to tell which were being fired at the manor and which were being returned at the attackers. There was a series of explosions, immediately followed by the distant, rusty screech of metal being ripped apart.

* * *

Outside, a little over a dozen men in cheap business suits were scattered around five patchwork, heavily modified S.C.A.M.P.E.R.s. The KND transports all appeared to have been dissected and welded back together at some point (and not with any apparent care), and each one had mismatched pieces: a discolored wing here, a piece of junk yard salvage over the armor there, etc. Most prominently, every S.C.A.M.P.E.R. had new, identical, chrome-plated, tall doors on their sides. Adult-sized doors.

The rogue office workers who had evidently arrived in these hijacked vehicles were currently occupied by the Delightful Mansion's old, but still very effective, defense system. They were mostly using the S.C.A.M.P.E.R.s' onboard weapons systems to fire at the manor itself while defending themselves with their own devices. Most of them carried large briefcases, which, judging by how little wear they showed after enduring laser fire, were much sturdier than most. Several men were armed with giant stapler guns that shot actual staplers. These weapons were used to take out the lasers on the lawn, although not very efficiently.

They had no way to counter the missiles flying at them. It was dodge and allow the ballistics to damage their vehicles or let themselves be hit. It was quite clear that the attackers would be overwhelmed sooner or later.

As claw-arms tore apart one of the S.C.A.M.P.E.R.s they had arrived in, a very bland-faced man at the front signaled the others to pull back.

* * *

"W-What's going on out there?!" stammered Wally.

"A siege. One that we're going to wait out," answered Cree bluntly. She turned and looked at the only other adult in the room, saying, "Tell me you have it repaired."

Father nasally intoned, "As good as new." He took a clunky, wooden, box-shaped device out of his satchel and held it up to the group.

Hoagie asked, "Is that a camera?"

"Or a jack-in-the-box?" Nigel questioned.

"Neither," Tommy excitedly leapt to his feet and exclaimed, "That's the recommissioning module! It's gonna give you guys your memories back! My big brother will be Numbuh 2 again - this is _so_ cool!"

"Can't wait to hear my sister whine about everything I've done wrong," Mushi said sarcastically, albeit with an unmistakable smile on her face.

Joey's expression was bright and starstruck as he softly exclaimed, "I can't believe we're bringing back _the_ Sector V…!"

Even in the poor lighting, Nigel, Hoagie, Kuki, and Wally looked at each other with identical expressions of doubt and fear.

Nigel spoke with little enthusiasm, "Um, I think we'd rather not..."

Tommy eagerly ran in between the Beetles brothers and made for the recommissioning module, his shoes slapping loudly against the carpet. Father lifted it out of the boy's reach and glared down at him in annoyance.

"C'mon!" begged Tommy, "I wanna do it!"

" _No._ "

"Why not?" asked Mushi sharply, her hands on her hips.

Father was silent for a moment as he removed his pipe from a pocket and placed it between his teeth. It lit seemingly of its own accord, the orange glow reflecting off his glasses and his yellow irises as he grimly proclaimed, "I won't allow _anyone_ to be recommissioned without a choice in the matter, not even under these circumstances. If Sector V doesn't want this, then it's not happening."

* * *

 _"Alright, Numbuh 5's listening. What on Earth makes you think she'd be a good leader?"_

 _Numbuh 362 opened the door and gestured for her to follow._

 _"Come walk with me, and I'll tell you."_

 **KND**

Numbuh 5 squinted as her eyes adjusted to the transition of coming out of a cosily dim hallway into the bright light of the Moonbase bridge area. After the destruction of the old base during the Grandfather incident well over a year ago, the Kids Next Door had redesigned the new one to be a larger, sturdier, shinier, better-defended, and just plain _cooler_ place. It was practically its own city. The massive capsule that contained the operations bridge was almost as emblematic of the new and improved Moonbase as the statue of Numbuh Zero in the atrium further back. Still, some things never changed, and the chaotic hustle and bustle of the commander's bridge was exactly as it had always been.

A cacophony of children's voices at all volumes and in all languages created a background of white noise as Numbuhs 5 and 362 walked around the edge of the glass dome. Numbuh 5 was looking out past the glass at the distant, rich, and vivid blues and greens of Earth below as the Supreme Leader talked.

"I think you're perfect for this job, Numbuh 5," said 362, "You're my first choice for a lot of reasons."

Angling her gaze down at her feet, Sector V's second-in-command responded with repressed emotion, "Sir, Numbuh 5 don't mean no disrespect, but you are _crazy_ if you think she oughta be at the top o' that list."

"You shouldn't underestimate yourself, Numbuh 5. You're one of the best operatives the Kids Next Door has seen in recent history."

Numbuh 5 looked straight ahead now as they rounded the halfway point around the center of the bridge. She still refused to meet her commanding officer's eyes as she contended, "She's hardly _the_ best. You could be looking at a dozen other kids right now."

"Kids who don't have what it takes to handle this job," declared Numbuh 362.

"And ya think I do? _Me?_ " retorted Numbuh 5 with anger in her voice.

Without hesitation, Numbuh 362 asserted, "Yes. You've proven time and time again that you're calm and rational in the face of danger. You're organized, responsible, and you understand the human side of a mission. People like you and respect you. You have a great reputation that's well-deserved. Even more impressive than your accomplishments-"

Numbuh 5 cut her off, "Girl, you could be sayin' all these things to Numbuh 1 instead."

"You didn't let me finish," stated the Supreme Leader wryly, "I was going to say you know how to read between the lines. Unlike Nigel, you have a head for politics."

The field operative met Numbuh 362's eyes for the first time since they'd left her office and accused, "Like the _politics_ that make you choose a sector's second-in-command over its leader?"

"I know what you're insinuating there. And… I'll admit that _those_ kinds of politics might be a part of it... But more important than my feelings are legitimate reasons why I can't choose Nigel."

"Okay, then what about Numbuh 86? Or Numbuh 60? Global Command oughta be where anybody looks for the next Supreme Leader," remarked Numbuh 5.

362 chuckled sadly, "Patton isn't giving up the Arctic for anything. And I'm sure that he or Fanny or Nigel would do a great job - but none of them are my first choice."

"Right," the younger girl was radiating aggravation as she grumbled, "That'd be Numbuh 5, of all people."

Numbuh 362 responded, "Because you're the best candidate I could ever hope for. I'm not giving up on you. Look, I never thought I'd stick with the job for this long, but here I am. I _like_ being Supreme Leader. I know you'll get to like it too, in time."

"In what time?" shot back Numbuh 5, "Abby's turning thirteen in six months, baby. She ain't got much more time left than you!"

"You have _enough_ time."

Pulling her hat down over her eyes, Numbuh 5 countered, "Enough time to screw up ev'rythang."

"Hey now, come on," Numbuh 362 put a comforting hand on 5's shoulder, "Don't do this to yourself."

They walked down a staircase to a level of Moonbase dedicated entirely to sweets and snacks. Each and every vendor went ignored by the two girls as they ducked into a nearby elevator behind the pretzel stand. 362 pushed the button for the third-lowest floor of the main section of the Moonbase. The elevator descended rapidly.

"Rachel…" 5's voice cracked, "You know what happened when Numbuh 5 was in charge of Sector V… She was a disaster as a leader. I _can't_ do this."

"But you _can_. You've learned from your mistakes."

"I've learned?" removing her hat, Numbuh 5 stepped away from her commanding officer and leaned against the far corner of the elevator, gazing down at the red, well-worn cap pensively. A melancholy expression flashed across her face before quickly giving way to frustration. She bitterly continued, "Oh, I learned. What Numbuh 5 _learned_ is to never trust her own heart, 'cause she's got a really _stupid_ one."

"Numbuh 5," said 362 sternly, pushing a button on the elevator panel to stop their descent. The elevator ground to a sudden halt, sending a startling jolt through the walls that forced Numbuh 5 to catch her balance.

"What?" snapped the field operative.

"Get a hold of yourself."

Numbuh 5 was shocked by the abrupt realization of how quickly she had allowed herself to devolve. It was unprofessional for an operative as old as she was to behave like that. She took in a deep breath of the cool, recycled air and exhaled slowly, re-centering herself.

She apologized, "I'm sorry, Rachel."

"Don't be," responded the Supreme Leader sympathetically, "I know you have issues to work through. Everyone does." She pressed the button for the main floor, and as the elevator began climbing up, she said, "C'mon. Let's skip the hanger and head back to the bridge."

They rode in silence.

* * *

The elevator doors slid open, and the two girls were greeted by the familiar din of chattering KND operatives. They left the elevator and walked through the Moonbase's central atrium - this was the room within which stood a statue of the legendary Numbuh 0. It had filtered, natural lighting from the sun twelve hours a day, and it was the only place on the Moon to have grass and dirt and smell like Earth. Being peaceful, comforting, and much cleaner than the cafeteria, the atrium was a popular place for those stationed on the Moonbase to hang out in during their breaks. Kids waved to Numbuh 362 as they passed by, and the Supreme Leader waved back. Numbuh 5 trailed behind the blonde girl, surprised to see that some of those waves were directed at her rather than her commanding officer.

They entered a new hallway, one that was brightly lit but completely empty of traffic. They passed by several sets of nondescript double doors along the walls, out of one of which came the shrill, distant shouts of Numbuh 86 barking orders and the brief, echoing scream of an operative's decommissioning.

Numbuh 362 winced and unconsciously shivered.

"Abby," the Supreme Leader slowed her pace and said quietly, "I'm really not going to be here much longer. I'd go out a lot happier knowing I can leave the Kids Next Door in your hands."

Numbuh 5 shook her head vigorously, "No. Not happening, nuh-uh, no way."

" _Please_ ," she begged.

"Numbuh 5 just can't do it, girl!"

"You can't know that until you try."

"She ain't gonna try."

"But-"

A clipped, accented voice interrupted Numbuh 362, saying, "Leave it alone, Rachel. We can't make her take the job."

Coming down a narrow, easily-missed set of stairs in the wall was Numbuh 1, shrugging the straps of a small backpack over his shoulders as he approached them.

"Numbuh 1," exclaimed Numbuh 5 incredulously, "Unbelievable. Nigel, you're in on this 'Supreme Leader' business?"

"Of course," replied her sector leader. Smirking at her over his sunglasses, he asked rhetorically, "Who else do you think suggested you for the position?"

Numbuh 362 interjected, "The position that she still won't take."

The leader of Sector V responded, "I'm certain she has her reasons. And we can't force her to accept it."

Sighing, Numbuh 362 nodded in agreement. She shuffled her feet, saying, "It's really too bad."

"So... Numbuh 5's in the clear? After all this?" asked Sector V's second-in-command.

Numbuh 1 met Numbuh 5's questioning gaze and proclaimed with solemn confidence, "I promise you, Numbuh 5, no one is going to make you become Supreme Leader. If it happens, it will be only by your choice."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Hope this chapter was up to par. Please leave a review, it always cheers me up to see them.

 **Edit:** I noticed a discrepancy between something I wrote about Numbuh 60/Patton here and his presence in a later chapter, so I've changed it. He isn't getting decommissioned two weeks after Numbuh 362 - as far as this story is concerned, he's a little younger than Numbuh 5. **\- 8/14/2016**


	4. Ch 3: Memory Lane

**Chapter 3: Memory Lane**

The sounds of battle outside the Delightful Mansion served as mildly disturbing background noise as the group of nine drifted toward a grand staircase down the poorly illuminated hall. They were led by Father and Cree, the two eldest among them, between whom a simmering rivalry for leadership was sensed by all. But that quiet rift in the group was secondary to the argument at hand.

"How can you _not_ want to be recommissioned?!" exclaimed Tommy. He stamped his feet in frustration, the most visibly upset of anyone there.

"We just… don't," replied Hoagie as he unsuccessfully attempted to pacify his brother.

The boy whined like a child half his age, "But _why not_?"

"Tommy," Nigel spoke to the younger Gilligan placatingly, "You have to understand how utterly bizarre this entire evening has been for us. Our world has turned upside down."

Kuki said, "Try to look at it from our point of view," She could have been addressing almost anyone, but it was Mushi who looked up from her sulking pout. Kuki summarized with disarming calmness, "We've been kidnapped and told this insane story about a secret war between kids and grown-ups, and outside there are scary people trying to kidnap us or worse. You want to give us back our memories of being part of this crazy world… But the way you keep talking about it, it sounds like you just want to get back these other people who we used to be."

"But they're not different people," Joey protested meekly as he began up the stairs, "They're you."

Tommy stopped at the foot of the staircase, blocking the teens' way. Cree and Father were already at the top, waiting for the rest of them. Mushi and Joey were halfway up. Joey paused, waiting for his brother, whereas Mushi continued climbing the creaky steps regardless. Spreading his arms out to prevent any of the teens from walking around him, Tommy stood his ground at the base of the stairs.

He shouted his agreement with Joey's words, " _Exactly!_ The only difference is a few memories, and they're _your_ memories! Why wouldn't you want them back?"

Wally firmly shoved Tommy aside and followed Joey up the steps, grumbling, "You're just not gettin' it, are ya, mate?"

The other teens avoided Tommy's broken-hearted gaze as they climbed the staircase after Wally.

* * *

Father pulled open the door to his study. The children behind him curiously peeked around the doorframe as he appraised the state of the room. Hugging two walls were bookshelves full of boring tomes, encyclopedias, and the occasional self-help manual. Five ornate, red chairs lay to the right of the door in a perfect line. An ashy, unlit fireplace was set into the wall behind the heavy, dark, wooden desk at the far side of the room. An empty, clay flower pot sat next to the desk's leather swivel chair, conspicuously out of place. The study was exactly as he had left it, if a fair bit dustier.

Father walked inside and set his satchel down next to the desk as he picked up the flower pot. While the others were entering the room, he reached underneath the desktop and slid out a numeric keypad. Turning the flower pot upside down, he tapped into the keypad a sequence of numbers that was scorched into the bottom of the pot. He sat down and hit the enter key.

A loud click resounded throughout the study. The wooden desk split in two and slid apart, allowing a panel full of buttons and levers to rise up in between the two halves. A row of inactive screens folded out of the back of the desk. Paintings above the bookshelves turned around to reveal speakers. What startled Nigel, Hoagie, Kuki, and Wally the most, however, was when the fireplace flared to life, providing a source of much-needed illumination in the gloomy, windowless room.

"We can follow what's going on outside from here," said Father, preoccupied as he toyed with buttons, switches, and levers on the control panel that did who knows what.

"But…" Hoagie protested nervously, "Aren't we trapped now?"

Cree responded matter-of-factly, "Not for too long. The Executives' mooks out there are going to wear themselves down eventually. Once they're out of action, it'll be safe enough for us to get out of this place."

Wally took a seat in one of the chairs and questioned impatiently, "Okay, so how long's that gonna take?"

"Half an hour?" shrugged Cree without concern, "Fifty minutes at the most."

The screens at Father's desk turned bright blue and then cut to video feed from outside the mansion. A dozen men were firing at the manor and its defenses from behind the barrier of four S.C.A.M.P.E.R.s parked in the grass. Muffled, static-filled audio of laser fire and explosions came from the speakers on the walls. Father flipped a switch and muted the sound.

"Finally," the man grumbled to himself, "Microphones might be useless, but at least the cameras are still working."

The teens and children immediately crowded around the desk and jostled each other to get a better view of the screens. Their chatter and noise annoyed Father like nothing else could. He combed his fingers through his hair, leaned back in his chair as he adjusted his glasses, and took a deep breath.

Then, he threw his hands in the air and shouted, "Would you brats _get away_ from here? Yeesh! You're like mangy dogs!"

They hurriedly backed off, Tommy the quickest of all. There was a brief moment of silence as the firelight flickered and cast long shadows on the walls.

"Tommy Gilligan," Father stood and addressed the boy darkly, " _Put down_ the recommissioning module."

"Eep," squealed Tommy. He trembled next to an equally terrified Joey, who grabbed the wooden box from him and set it on the floor.

" _Give it here._ "

Joey kicked the recommissioning device, sending it sliding across the carpet until it bumped against the desk.

Father picked it up and set the box on his desk. Then, he sat back down and declared warningly, "I will _incinerate_ this module the next time you touch it."

Mushi, whether brave or stupid or just feeling contrary, stepped between Father and the boys. Rolling up her sleeves, she planted her feet and stood her ground. The girl crossed her arms and stated with flat determination, "Like you would really."

The shadows in the room seemed to deepen. Narrowing his eyes, Father replied, "What was that, young lady?"

* * *

Confused by the current conversation, the decommissioned members of Sector V talked amongst themselves.

"What's going on now?" asked Kuki.

Nigel shrugged and answered honestly, "No idea."

Wally remarked eagerly, "I think Mushi's gonna punch out your uncle, Nigel."

"I think you're misreading the situation. Just a little bit," interjected Hoagie with a wry smile.

They went largely ignored by everyone except for Cree, who dropped her head into her hands. _Ugh_ , she thought to herself, _I can't believe how stupidly_ normal _they are, decommissioned._ Abigail _was never this oblivious._

* * *

Meanwhile, Mushi's confrontation with Father continued.

"I _said_ ," repeated the girl, "Like you would really."

"You think I wouldn't?" responded Father with a raised eyebrow, the glow of the screens casting eerie shadows on his face.

Mushi frowned and declared, "You don't have the guts, anymore. You're a has-been - you said as much yourself."

"Just because I won't fight you knuckleheads next door," the man replied haughtily, "Doesn't mean I'm above breaking a few toys." He suddenly became very self-conscious and protested with a pout, "And I'm not a has-been! I'm just retired!"

Whatever tension there had been in the atmosphere immediately dissipated. Tommy and Joey were both immensely relieved. Mushi wore a very satisfied expression at her partial victory.

Wally shuffled his feet and kicked at a cobweb tangled at the base of a bookshelf. He complained, "So, what now? Do we just sit here and wait for cruddy forever?"

"Pretty much," responded Cree.

For a while, it was quiet. Everyone found a seat, be it in a chair or on the floor. Father drummed his fingers on the desk as he watched the camera feeds with an oddly bored expression, considering that there were explosions and laser fire occupying the screens. Cree was unable to find a comfortable position in her armor, and so the clanking of metal would echo every few moments as she shifted her posture. Tommy had sulked for a few minutes, but then he moved on to using his Game Boy to play an actual video game. Mushi was watching over his shoulder.

Hoagie and Kuki played rock, paper, scissors in the corner - Kuki almost always seemed to win, but Hoagie stubbornly refused to give up. Nigel alternated between polishing his already-clean glasses and staring into the fireplace as he brooded over the wild events of the day. Wally lay slumped backwards in one of the chairs, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as he waited in near-comatose boredom. Joey sat next to him, looking around the room with a million thoughts flying through his head.

The younger Beetles quietly commented to Tommy, "Y'know, it's kinda funny. One of the stories I always hear about Numbuh 4 is how he waited inside a fake birthday cake for _hours_ to get a jump on the Delightful Children, but my brother's the most impatient guy I know."

"Number 4?" questioned Wally, startled awake by the conversation.

"It was your codename," explained Joey, "When you were part of the Kids Next Door."

"Oooh," Kuki interrupted them, intrigued, "What was my codename?"

Mushi answered, "Numbuh 3."

Hoagie, finally throwing in the towel at rock, paper, scissors, scratched at his chin and said, "And… I was Number 2? I heard Tommy call me that when he was talking about that recommissioning thing."

"Yeah, you were," replied Tommy with a huff, "And you were a lot cooler then."

Hoagie groaned, "Oh, come on, Tommy."

Curious, Nigel inquired from across the room, "Following that pattern, was I Number 1 or 5?"

Father slid his eyes away from the screens for a moment to glare and respond, "You were Numbuh 1, pain in the neck."

"Abigail was Numbuh 5," said Cree, emotion cracking her voice.

An awkward silence followed.

"... They still talk about you, y'know," mumbled Joey, "A-all of you. The legendary Sector V… their arch nemesis, Father... the traitor, Cree… even Tommy."

"I'm _the_ Tommy!"

Joey cringed away, and Wally sent a dark look at Tommy that quickly shut up the usually chatty boy.

"Go on, Joey," encouraged Wally lightly, "Who still talks about little ol' us?"

Joey giggled and answered, "The _Kids Next Door_ , duh. I mean... you guys were the most famous operatives since Sector Z - Or maybe even Numbuh 0!"

Father's eye twitched twice. He rolled his pipe to the other side of his mouth.

Continuing, a starstruck Joey began to ramble, "There are crazy famous missions that they taught us about during cadet training, and other stories that keep getting passed down by word of mouth - like Operation Z.E.R.O. Just a lot of stories about Sector V, because Sector V is what every cadet wanted to be like during basic - and when we got told about decommissioning, the instructor used Ms. Lincoln in a cautionary tale. Later, when they covered major villains, Father was still first on the list even though he disappeared years ago. The KND thinks he's _that_ much of a supervillain."

" _Retired_ supervillain, thank you very much," grumbled Father.

Nigel gave him a very odd look.

Joey went on, saying, "I always loved hearing about Numbuh 2's inventions, and all the times Numbuh 1 tricked the bad guys, and how _cool_ Numbuh 5 was… And I really loved when people talked about how Numbuh 3 was the nicest kid to ever kick that much butt, and I really really loved it whenever they told stories about how awesome a fighter Numbuh 4 was. And it was great when we were getting close to graduation, they told us about how Tommy saved the whole KND from turning into animals just after his cadet training."

Upon hearing that, all the resentment and frustration that Tommy had been feeling since his older brother and his friends had refused recommissioning suddenly quelled. He felt immensely sobered, and a little guilty. "R-really? They still remember me?" he asked.

A nod from Joey as the young operative eagerly replied, "Yeah! It's one of my favorite stories - after all the ones that Wally is in. Oh, but I can't really pick favorites… All of Sector V's missions were just _so cool…!_ "

"Kid," Cree interrupted gruffly, "You've got one hell of a case of hero worship."

"I- I know I do," responded Joy bashfully, "But Sector V, and Tommy, and Numbuh 362… and even you… You're _really_ heroes."

"So I'm a hero because I'm a double-crosser?" Cree raised a skeptical eyebrow, saying, "You oughta find better heroes, boy... Or better yet, no heroes at all. You'll only get hurt."

The hopeful grin on Joey's face fell away. Wally jumped in to defend his brother, exclaiming, "He does have better heroes, you jerk! He's got me! Number 4!"

"And Number 3!" chimed in Kuki brightly.

Hoagie couldn't resist emphasizing the pun as he said, "And me, _two_!"

Nigel smiled as he added, "I suppose you can count me in as well."

Kuki protested, "Aw, come on, Nigel. You have to say the codename!"

Amused, the bald boy gave in, "Alright, fine… You can count on Number 1."

"... And Numbuh T," said Tommy, wringing his hands nervously, "Look… I'm really sorry about how I've been acting with the recommissioning thing."

"It's okay, Tommy," responded Hoagie, "No hard feelings."

Tommy cautiously grinned at his older brother, and when the smile was returned he spontaneously leapt in for a hug which Hoagie did not hesitate to reciprocate.

"But you know T's not a number, right?"

"Shut up!"

Meanwhile, Wally was mussing up Joey's hair as he said to the younger boy with a warm smile, "Y'know, Joey, I think that was the biggest mouthful I've ever heard come outta ya. Ya ought to speak up more often. Just don't repeat any o' the bad words you might hear the big kids sayin', got that?"

In the background, Mushi was making exaggerated gagging sounds at the overt displays of affection between siblings. Kuki frowned at her disapprovingly, and the younger Sanban stuck her tongue out, rebelliously blowing her sister a raspberry in response. Kuki was at first taken aback, but quite quickly returned the insult herself, spraying spittle on Mushi's face in the process. Mushi's expression changed from one of contempt to one of disgust as she wiped off the saliva. Kuki seemed quite happy with her perceived victory.

Casually, Nigel remarked, "If being part of this Kids Next Door thing made kids like Joey look up to us like this, well… I don't think I'd mind remembering it."

"Yeah,"

"Me too."

"You can count me in on that!"

"Wait," said Tommy exasperatedly, "So you guys _want_ to be recommissioned now?"

The four teens, once upon a time top operatives for the Kids Next Door, glanced at each other. The moment their eyes met, they knew that all of them understood the significance of the decision they were making.

Slowly and somberly, Nigel affirmed, "Yes… We want to remember. But… could we perhaps see our parents again, first?"

The other three nodded in agreement with his words.

"That's very doable," replied Father, his fingers lacing together as he contemplated the request - or rather, the decision to accept recommissioning. Unlike the others, he'd had no expectations whatsoever of the decommissioned teens. He couldn't care less whether they chose to take back their memories or not. He had his reasons to want the Executives dealt with, and if Sector V could save him from having to clean up the mess himself, then that was all the better.

Hoagie asked, "So we get to see our parents, then?"

Cree shrugged, "Sure, why not? Once the guys outside are taken care of, getting to the safe house will be a piece of cake."

Mushi sneered, "Sector V never had a very good track record with cake."

* * *

 _Numbuh 1 met Numbuh 5's questioning gaze and proclaimed with solemn confidence, "I promise you, Numbuh 5, no one is going to make you become Supreme Leader. If it happens, it will be only by your choice."_

 **KND**

She had asked for more time. They gave to to her, in a way, walking with her down to the Moonbase cafeteria. Then, they made their excuses and left. Numbuh 362 had her Supreme Leadering to get back to, and Numbuh 1 apparently needed to get to a lunch meeting with Numbuh 101 at the KND Museum of Seriously Cool Artifacts and Stuff. Numbuh 362 promised to meet her again in an hour. It went unspoken that the Supreme Leader would want a solid answer from her then.

First thing she did, Numbuh 5 went to the dairy counter and ordered a chocolate milkshake from the bartender. She stayed there at the counter after receiving her drink. It was impossible to hear, but she could feel the squeak of the bar stool as she sat down.

The din and chatter of the always-busy cafeteria was as good as the silence of deep space for Numbuh 5's brooding. She took off her beloved cap, setting the signature red hat in her lap as she gazed contemplatively at the warped reflection of her face in the bright, jewel-like cherry garnishing her milkshake.

Red. It always had to be red.

 _The world was tall. She was six years old. The denim overalls she wore were baggy hand-me-downs. Her big sister blew out eleven candles buried in pink frosting, then turned to look down at her and say, "Hey, sis. It might be my birthday, but I swear you're the one who's getting bigger. Wanna join the Kids Next Door?"_

 _The exact appearance of Cree's face at that age was a blur in her memory. But she could recall with perfect clarity the red hat on her sister's head._

Numbuh 5 sipped at her milkshake slowly, enjoying the rich flavor of the chocolate first before angling her straw up to sample the light, fluffy sweetness of whipped cream.

The sugary drink was a small comfort to her as she reflected upon those golden, bittersweet days before Cree's betrayal.

Her sister had been her hero. The perfect operative and the best older sibling anyone could ever ask for. She'd pushed Abby on the swings, and bought both of them ice cream with her allowance, and taught her all the best places to play hide-and-seek in Sector V's treehouse. She'd stood up for Abby if others teased her and fought off bullies for her (and all other kids, but at four years old Abby hadn't understood the purpose of the Kids Next Door). Cree told the coolest stories, and shared her best toys, and kept her promise to get Abby into the Kids Next Door. Cree had carried her home when she was tired. Cree had defeated the monsters in her closet. Cree had lit up the world.

Cree had stood on a pedestal so high, it was certainly inevitable that she would fall. But she didn't have to fall _so hard_.

 _Her world had never been the same after that day when three members of the Decommissioning Squad were left injured on the Lincoln house's front lawn. That day when Cree ran, and Abby (or was it Numbuh 5?) chased her. Chased her all the way down the lane, until she met the impassable gates of the Delightful Mansion, and she fell to her knees._

Numbuh 5 snapped out of her reverie and gave her milkshake a few stirs. She took another sip of the drink, and then her thoughts stole her away again.

 _The world was never quite as bright as it once was, after that._

 _Numbuh 5 became the leader of Sector V. Maurice supported her every step of the way, and for a while it seemed like they would pull through okay. But then, every night, she would see Cree at home, and a thousand sticky feelings crept up in her heart. One day, sick of the guilt of being related to the traitor, she came to the decision that she would never follow in Cree's footsteps. She wanted desperately to make her own name, one wholly separate from that of her traitor sister's._

 _She started becoming distracted by solo missions. Glory-seeking. Made a name for herself in the world of candy hunting, and found that she liked it quite a lot. She began passing up some missions and leaving them to other sectors. The ones she let Sector V take, she showed up late for. Maurice worried about her, but she didn't listen._

 _Global Command must have taken notice that she was slacking off, because they gave her the duty of looking for new recruits in her sector. She met some new kids, but she didn't try very hard to convince them to join. They were boring._

 _However, there was one who stood out a little bit from all the rest that she'd met that week. A friendly, optimistic, naive boy with a nice haircut, new glasses, and a charming smile. A rather overactive imagination, but otherwise very average. He was incredibly trusting, and that trait in particular reminded her of herself, once upon a time. Just like with the others, she asked if he wanted to join the Kids Next Door, and just like the others, he declined._

 _She forgot about him, until a few days later._

 _"No, no, no, no, no!" She was on the verge of panic as she rushed down a hallway in the Delightful Mansion._

 _The rest of her sector was a ways behind her._

 _"Numbuh 5, slow down!"_

 _"But it's Numbuh 5's fault! We shouldn't have waited this long!"_

 _She kicked open the door at the end of the hall._

 _Light from doorway fell on the shivering boy in the middle of the dark room. One of his sleeves was torn. He'd scraped his knees. His glasses were crooked. All the hair on his head was gone._

 _"Oh no…" whispered Numbuh 5, guilt threatening to break her heart._

 _The boy looked up at her, tears in his eyes. He fell forward. She caught him. His shoulders heaved with dry sobs as he clung to her for dear hope._

 _She held him tight and said with sorrow caught in her throat, "Baby, I am so sorry... Hey, hey now, don't cry no more... Nigel, isn't it? It's gonna be alright... The Kids Next Door are here, Nigel. Hey, hey…"_

"Hey."

Numbuh 5 looked up and met the eyes of the impatient 11-year-old running the dairy counter. She raised an eyebrow at the interruption and asked, "Uh, what?"

"You've been sitting there for forty minutes. Order something else or leave."

Taking that as a challenge, Numbuh 5 slurped down the rest of her milkshake in one gulp, catching the cherry between her teeth. She bit down and savored the juicy pop of the candied fruit. With a smack of her lips, she said to the bartender, "Numbuh 5 was just leavin', baby. She's got somewhere to be."

* * *

Numbuh 362 was just leaving the bridge when she ran into exactly the operative she was looking for.

"Oh, Numbuh 5. Good to see you again," she greeted with a smile.

"Good to see you too, sir," replied Numbuh 5 as she led them back down the empty hallway she'd come from, "But let's cut to the chase."

Numbuh 362 was surprised, but she nodded and said, "Of course. Regarding the next Supreme Leader..."

Taking a deep breath, Numbuh 5 stopped walking and softly declared, "I'll do it."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, thank goodness!" exclaimed Numbuh 362, immensely relieved.

Numbuh 5 raised a hand to stop her commanding officer from getting ahead of herself. She added, "But I ain't doing it now. Numbuh 5 wants whatever time she can get with her team, out in the field."

Nodding, 362 readily agreed, "Of course, Abby. I'll just want a day to teach you a few things I wish I'd known when I chose this job - but all the rest of the time left before my decommissioning… it's yours."

The Supreme Leader solemnly raised her right hand. She took a moment to gather her saliva, and then spit in her palm. She held out her arm in offering. Numbuh 5 swallowed her hesitation and her doubt, then spit in her own palm and firmly shook hands with Numbuh 362. It was a pact. A wet, drippy, bacteria-laden pact.

"So…" Numbuh 5 was the first to let go as she asked curiously, "What now?"

"Now, you're free to go. Enjoy the rest of the afternoon," answered Numbuh 362 as she tucked her arms behind her back, "I'll find out when you can come back for my teaching day and have Nigel send you." She laughed, "Hah, he'll be glad when he hears about this! Now he won't have to run interference during tag."

Incredulous, Numbuh 5 exclaimed, "Girl, you were _serious_ 'bout that backup plan?"

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I should explain right now that the Galactic Kids Next Door doesn't play a part in this story, just in case anyone was wondering.

The past few chapters I just posted as I finished. I want to be able to further revise future chapters and let them sit a while before posting, though, so from now on updates are going to be spaced out a little more - new chapter every Saturday.

I hope this chapter was enjoyable. Please leave a review!

 **Edit:** After re-watching Operation TREATY, I realize that Numbuh 5's flashbacks in this chapter aren't compliant with the canon flashback at the beginning of the episode (Cree's presence in the episode's flashback being the main issue). I won't be revising this chapter to fix that, but any future KND fics I may write will probably use canon and not this version of events. **\- 7/28/2016**


	5. Ch 4: Sun Must Set to Rise

**Chapter 4: Sun Must Set to Rise**

"What's the status outside?" asked Cree.

Father scanned over the screen terminals in front of him and replied, "Two vehicles left. They still have most of their weapons."

 _Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!_

Everyone looked at Tommy, who hurried jabbed at the start button on his Game Boy. "Game over" disappeared into blocky pixels, and a radar screen cropped up to replace it. Two blinking, red dots were practically on top of the center circle. More worrisome, however, in the lower-right corner was a cluster of a half-dozen more heading steadily toward the middle of the screen.

"Oh, crud," said the boy as he grimaced, "We've got Executive reinforcements."

"How many?" inquired Cree with urgency.

"What are they?" added Mushi.

Tommy played with the D-pad controls and then answered them both, "There are six bogies coming at us from Sector W, fifteen minutes out. There's four C.O.O.L.B.U.S.'es , a M.O.S.Q.U.I.T.T.O.H, and another S.C.A.M.P.E.R."

"Damn it!" cursed Cree, "They're trying to keep up the siege. They have resources and we don't. We can't hold out forever."

"We have to get out of here, A-S-A- _Now_!" exclaimed Mushi.

Joey stuttered, "B-But, if we leave - those Executives outside…!"

Bewildered, Wally asked, "What's going on now?"

Nigel replied with anxiety cracking his voice, "I think we're in a lot of trouble."

"Only if you brats won't _shut up and listen_ ," growled Father.

Silence enveloped the room.

Father pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, "Finally," Then, he relaxed, stood up, and began speaking, "Look, the mansion has escape pods built into its towers. The biggest one can hold all of us, but it's slower than the others. On the positive side, it's shielded from KND tracking. If we take it now, those two S.C.A.M.P.E.R.s outside will still follow us by sight, but we can stay ahead of the reinforcements. Hopefully we'll be able to get rid of the vehicles on our tail and then head for the safe house. Anyone have a better plan?"

Tommy raised a hand and opened his mouth to protest.

* * *

"But why not?"

"Because your plan sucks," said Hoagie angrily to his younger brother as the group climbed another set of stairs, this one narrow and spiraling. There was only enough room for them to walk in single file, and the Gilligan brothers were trailing behind the others as they argued.

Tommy whined, "Come on, my plan's not that bad!"

Hoagie exclaimed accusatorily, "You want to send the guy out there alone and unarmed!"

"He'd be fine! It's two birds with one stone - the hijacked S.C.A.M.P.E.R.s get taken out, and for a little while we get rid of the guy most likely to betray us."

" _Ugh_ ," groaned the elder Gilligan before saying frustratedly, "I just don't get what your problem is with Nigel's uncle."

Tommy leaned forward toward his brother as he responded, "He's a _bad guy_!"

"He's done nothing but _help_ you, and now he's trying to save our collective butts - and you're trying to throw him under the bus!" shot back Hoagie.

Crossing his arms, Tommy grumbled, "He could just catch up to us again if he doesn't abandon us first."

"That's _if_ he doesn't die!" pointed out Hoagie, "Those guys out there have weapons! What is _wrong_ with you, Tommy?"

Tommy huffed, "Like I said, _he'd be fine_. If you remembered anything about Father - that's his supervillain name - you'd be on my side."

"Well, it doesn't matter if I'm on your side or not, because we're going with _his_ plan and _not_ yours," Hoagie sighed, "And here I thought you were starting to grow up a little."

At the front, someone pushed open a door and held it for the rest of them as they entered a vaulted, high-ceilinged room. Their new surroundings were a welcome contrast to the borderline claustrophobic squeeze of the staircase.

The group was now inside the highest part of the northwestern tower of the Delightful Mansion. It was a rotunda with tall windows that would have offered a lovely view were they not tightly shuttered closed. Lining the wall below the windows were a dozen simple seats without armrests. They formed a cushiony ring that was broken only by the door that served as the only way in or out of the rotunda. Sitting in any of the chairs was reminiscent of being in the backseat of a minivan - seat belts included.

Father directed Cree to sit in one of the center seats and Sector V's younger siblings to the places to her left in the very specific order of Cree, Mushi, Joey, and Tommy. He himself took the other center seat on Cree's right side. Nigel, Hoagie, Kuki, and Wally were allowed to sit wherever they wanted in the spots that remained. Hoagie deliberately avoided the seat next to his brother.

Father pushed a button located near his headrest, and without warning all of the chairs rotated around to face the shuttered windows. Those windows then proceeded to unshutter themselves and push outward. New glass panes slid out of the window frames and collapsed inward until they were flush with the wall, forming a seal between the interior and exterior.

Five consoles slid out of the wall in front of Cree and the others who'd been directed to specific seats. Two of them had steering apparatuses while the others were covered in a chaotic array of buttons, switches, and levers that made the desk panel back in Father's study seem simple in comparison. Rearview mirrors folded out from the struts between each window.

Experiencing the weird cherry on top of their incredibly bizarre day, Nigel, Hoagie, Kuki, and Wally felt shocked as they were jostled, the room turning and shifting like an airplane on the runway. They were rendered almost speechless when they heard and felt something very much like the engine of helicopter sputter to life beneath the floor.

Hoagie probably summed it up best.

"Woah,"

* * *

Outside, the men attacking the mansion paused in their offensive as they watched the northwest tower of the Delightful Manor slowly turn and rise above the others. It began lowering its angle from skyward to somewhere in the direction of the large treehouse up the street. Giant exhaust pipes appeared out of its tail end, and smoke began billowing out of them in thick plumes. The tell-tale sound of an engine revving up was heard.

"They're trying to escape!" shouted someone.

The rotunda rocket launched, passing over their heads and out of the manor's airspace.

A bland-faced man who seemed to be the leader of the force issued new orders, "Teams A and C, take your vehicles and go after that escape pod!"

* * *

Meanwhile, inside the rotunda itself, the five people piloting the rocket were struggling to keep it under control. They slid from side to side as their seat belts were the only things keeping them strapped in. The world swayed and shook dangerously.

"For crying out loud, get the gyroscope working already!" shouted Cree.

"I'm trying!" exclaimed Tommy, rapidly pulling levers and flipping switches on the panel in front of him.

The four passengers on the rocket were even more panicked than its pilots. Shoulders were taut and hands held onto the edge of their seat cushions with death grips. Teeth were chattering as the rotunda rocket shook and vibrated. More than once, turbulence knocked their heads against the backrests of their chairs.

"Holy mother of Amelia Earhart, _this thing is flying_!" screeched Hoagie, feeling an unwarranted mix of terror, thrill, and achievement.

Wally was hugging his knees up to his chest, warbling in terror, "We're gonna dieee!"

Tommy mashed one last button, and suddenly the world righted itself with a loud _clank_.

"Woah!" exclaimed Kuki as momentum pushed her back against her seat.

The roar of the engines quieted to a low hum, and the shaking of the rocket smoothed out to nothing worse than a drive on the highway. The gyroscope had finally been activated. The inside and outside of the escape ship could now rotate independently of each other.

Tentatively, Nigel inquired, "What happened?"

"We've been upgraded to first class," responded Mushi sarcastically.

Without warning, Cree pulled up on her controls sharply, and the vehicle went into a steep climb. G-forces anchored everyone to their seats and tugged at the loose skin of their cheeks as all occupants of the escape vessel felt an enormous, invisible weight fall upon them. Outside the windows, pickles, gumballs, and other assorted ammunition began flying out from behind the rotunda rocket. Cree dodged and leveled their ascent, relieving the heaviness pressing down on them.

She grumbled darkly, "Just in time for those two working S.C.A.M.P.E.R.s to catch up to us."

Joey gently eased back on the basketball-sized lever he'd been pushing on since the escape ship had taken off and nervously asked, "They're firing at us - What do we do about that?"

"Keep that accelerator floored!" shouted Cree in response.

With a startled "Eep!", Joey leaned forward on the lever with all his might.

Tommy declared frustratedly, "This has got to be the lousiest piloting system ever!"

"It was never finished, okay?" muttered Father with a tight grip on the control sticks in front of him "We're lucky enough of it works to fly."

As Mushi manipulated the rotation of the rocket to avoid getting their wings clipped by any stray shots, she remarked, "Doesn't this thing have autopilot?"

Cree replied flatly, "Autopilot can't dodge lasers."

She suddenly put the entire ship into a hair raising dive that turned the stomachs of the vehicle's passengers.

"Eugh," groaned Wally dazedly, "I think I'm gonna be sick."

They then felt the rotunda rocket shake from its chassis to its core as the ship was struck from above by gummy ammunition. Cree cursed, and Father ground his teeth. They twisted their controls starboard and managed to evade the rest of the rounds being fired at them. However, they were also finding it difficult to fly straight again when the rocket was experiencing spontaneously intermittent drag on the port side. Joey panickedly pounded a flashing red button on his panel.

On the outside surface of the escape vessel, a gummed-up fin retracted, and a replacement sprang out. The shaky ship immediately straightened itself and, with a flare of its rocket propulsion, accelerated over the lights of the city below. Two hijacked S.C.A.M.P.E.R.s followed in its wake.

Back inside the vehicle, Tommy said, "Aren't there any, like, weapons on this thing?"

"There should be!" replied Cree. She flipped a switch located between her controls and Father's.

Behind the pilots, screens and consoles appeared in front of Wally, Kuki, and Nigel.

"Um…" said Nigel hesitantly, "What's this?"

Cree glanced over her shoulder. Seeing the panels in front of the decommissioned teens, her eyes widened, and she exclaimed, "Oh, _crap_! We don't have automated targeting?!"

"It was never finished," repeated Father dryly. Then, he asked, "Munchkins back there, which options are available on the screen?"

Kuki answered uncertainly, "There's a laser…?"

"Only a laser? That's _all_ that's still working?" Father scowled and clenched the controls in front of him more tightly.

Cree declared, "We'll make do."

"How?" interjected Mushi sourly, "We're busy driving this thing!"

"Sector V will operate the laser manually."

Wally startled, "Huh?!"

Nigel couldn't believe what he was hearing, exclaiming with incredulity, "I'm sorry - _what_?!"

"Calm down and I'll talk you through it," said Cree as she maneuvered the ship through a barrel roll.

Kuki gasped in high-pitched horror, "You want us to shoot down those vehicles?"

"What about the people inside?" questioned Hoagie with concern.

Cree replied matter-of-factly, "They'll be fine. Those ships come with emergency parachutes."

"O-okay then," stuttered Wally, watching the blinking button in front of him warily, "Um, how do we, uh, do this?"

She explained slowly and deliberately, "Step 1 - aim. Step 2 - set the power of the laser. Step 3 - fire. Targeting should be the middle console. The laser's intensity ought to be controlled by the one on the right. Firing is the one with a big, red button. Try to hit the side engines on those S.C.A.M.P.E.R.s," she paused before adding in a soothing tone, "Just relax… It's like a video game."

With apprehension, Kuki seized the joystick controller on the middle console in front of her. To her right, Nigel was nervously contemplating the five switches on his panel. To her left, Wally seemed petrified of the single, blinking, red button before him. She swallowed her hesitation and began manipulating her controls. The screen in front of her showed live images of the two vehicles following them, one significantly closer than the other. Her yellow cursor moved from the center and lined up over the starboard thruster of the closest pursuer. Nigel flicked the switch in the middle of his console. Wally's screen beeped, and the blond boy reflexively slammed his fist down on the button in front of him.

They missed. The nearest pursuing vehicle had dodged at the last second, and their shot glanced off of its side armor rather than hit its thrusters.

However, in an extremely unlikely (but very lucky) turn of events, the laser they fired was redirected at the other pursuer as it bounced off the first. It hit the underside of the second S.C.A.M.P.E.R.'s portside thruster, warping and scorching the vital structure into only so much scrap metal. The damaged, smoking vehicle peeled away into an freefalling, uncontrollable spin that, after a moment, was halted by the release of a triad of parachutes from the tail end of its frame. It soon drifted out of view, into the night.

Inside the rotunda rocket, the decommissioned teens who had successfully shot down one of their pursuers on their first try (even if it was the wrong one) were ecstatic.

"Did we do that?" asked Nigel in shock.

"Woah…!" Kuki was wide-eyed in amazement.

Wally exclaimed wildly, "I can't believe we just did that! Didya see that, Joey? Your big brother just shot down one o' those things chasin' us!"

Hoagie had his face pressed against the window in front of him as he watched the remaining ship on their tail fall back a ways. This small retreat seemed suspicious to him, and his cautious reservations about it were soon justified. He widened his eyes as he saw their pursuer lower what looked like a _giant bottle of mustard_ from its belly.

He tried to get the others' attention, "Uh, guys?"

Too late. The surviving vehicle fired.

 _Splat!_

Kuki jumped in her seat, startled when the screen in front of her was suddenly overwhelmed by yellow before fritzing out to static.

"What happened?" questioned Father.

Hoagie answered, "I think we lost the laser."

The elder Gilligan watched in morbid fascination as mustard began dripping down the outside of the windows, the yellow condiment completely blocking his view.

"And visibility," he added blankly.

Mushi made the outside of the rocket spin at dizzying speeds, doing her best to shake off as much of the mustard on the windows as she could. It worked well enough to restore their view of the pursuing S.C.A.M.P.E.R. in the rearview mirrors .

Cree cursed, "There's nothing left to take out that last ship with."

"Well, we aren't going to the safe house with it on our tail!" declared Father determinedly, "I'll crash this thing into the ground before leading the Executives there!"

Mushi asked, "Tommy, don't you still have weapons and that stupid hat?"

"It's not stupid! But yeah, I do."

"You could leave this ship and take out that S.C.A.M.P.E.R!"

Tommy shook his head, protesting, "My personal transport isn't fast enough to catch back up with this rocket. I won't be able to come back unless you guys wait for me!"

"We're not slowing down to let you back on," said Father as he eyed a radar screen, "Those reinforcements are tracking the ship behind us, and they're too close for comfort. If they get us in sight, there's no chance of losing them."

"What are we going to do, then?"

"How should I know?"

Cree came to a decision. She barked, "Hoagie P. Gilligan, get over here _now_!"

The boy she'd addressed hurriedly undid his seatbelt and shakily made his way to Cree, replying, "Yes, ma'am!"

When he arrived within arm's reach, Cree let go of her steering controls. She unbuckled her own seatbelt and stood up before unceremoniously shoving Hoagie into her old chair.

"W-what?" stuttered Hoagie.

Cree ordered sternly, "You're piloting now. Focus!"

He gulped fearfully and took the control sticks.

Cree walked over to behind Tommy's chair, where the younger Gilligan's backpack was hanging from the backrest. She unzipped it and reached inside.

"Hey!" exclaimed Tommy, affronted at the intrusion.

The college-age girl ignored him and removed a G.U.M.Z.O.O.K.A. She popped the top of it off and took out a blue gumball, which she proceeded to toss in her mouth and chew.

Joey shouted with anxiety straining his voice, "What are you doing?"

Cree spat out her gum at the nearest window. It stuck to the glass.

She reattached the lid of the 2x4 weapon as, with long strides, she made her way to the only door on the entire ship. She answered, "Giving you brats a fighting chance."

She pulled it open, exposing them to the cold, night air. Wind rushed all throughout the interior of the ship with a deafening howl. The rocket's gyroscope automatically locked, and the vehicle began experiencing tremors again. Suddenly, the pilots steered hard to the right in order to avoid more rounds of fire from the vehicle following them. The floor tilted, and Father's satchel (with the recommissioning module and KNDNA tracker inside) slid toward Cree and the open door. She stopped it with her foot before kicking the bag at the rocket's passengers.

Nigel caught it.

Without a backwards glance, Cree activated the rockets in her shoes and jumped out of the ship. The door slammed shut behind her with a _bang_. Everything became quiet.

The occupants of the escape vehicle were shocked.

"Why…?" began Kuki before she was interrupted by the _boom_ and shockwave of an explosion from behind the rocket.

Everyone turned to look for its source, and they saw the S.C.A.M.P.E.R. that had been following them go down with smoke and flame trailing from its engines. It turned every which way as it fell through the air, parachutes just barely popping out in time to slow its fall before it reached the treeline of the forest below.

* * *

Cree Lincoln hovered in place in the chill, night air as she watched the hijacked KND vehicle crash through the trees. It felt good to personally bring down some of the people responsible for kidnapping her sister.

She looked over her shoulder and saw the rotunda rocket, carrying her rag-tag alliance and her old arch-enemies, zoom quickly out of view. Cree had known when she'd leaped out of that ship that she had no better chance of getting away from the Executives than Tommy. Her Battle Ready Armor was no faster than his hat transport.

Now out in the open in the middle of nowhere, Cree was left vulnerable.

 _At least those brats will make it to Point C, even if I won't_ , she thought to herself grimly, _Those reinforcements from Sector W are on their way here. I'm alone. There's nowhere I can run to. My only assets are an outdated set of armor and a weaponized gumball machine. They'll outnumber and outgun me when they arrive… I'm going to be captured... But_ they took Abby _. I'm putting up one hell of a fight!_

* * *

 _"I'll find out when you can come back for my teaching day and have Nigel send you." She laughed, "Hah, he'll be glad when he hears about this! Now he won't have to run interference during tag."_

 _Incredulous, Numbuh 5 exclaimed, "Girl, you were_ serious _'bout that backup plan?"_

 **KND**

It was on a Friday afternoon that Numbuh 5 found herself back on Moonbase for Numbuh 362's "lessons in Supreme Leadering". She'd actually arrived together with the rest of her sector, but they'd very quickly wished her luck and then left to go about their own business.

Her sector leader, Numbuh 1 (oh, but he would only be her commanding officer for a few weeks more), had given her a quick pep talk. Then, he left for the observatory where the science department was located - probably to butt heads with the scientists over how feasible some of his ideas for new additions to the D.E.F.E.N.S.E.-G.R.I.D. were. Numbuh 2 had chosen to remain behind in the hangar bay to talk shop with other 2x4 technicians. For reasons beyond her grasp, Numbuh 3 went off in search of Numbuh 86, just to hang out with the abrasive and ear-splittingly loud Global Tactical Officer. Numbuh 4 hadn't initially had any plans of his own, but not long after Sector V had landed, he managed to get himself into an argument with Numbuh 60 over the best way to put a teenager in a headlock - and that would certainly keep him occupied for a while.

Thus, Numbuh 5 was on her own as she entered the bridge area.

Hustle and bustle and never-ending chatter filled the dome. There was ringing in her ears as Sector V's second-in-command walked toward the raised platform where the Supreme Leader's chair sat empty. Several people greeted her, but she never noticed. For all the yelling and stomping and rush of the world around her, Numbuh 5 felt isolated from it. Detached. Without being aware of it, she stopped and stared at the puffy, overstuffed armchair that was the closest thing the Kids Next Door had to a throne. She felt a shiver slide up her spine as the hairs on the back of her neck stood up and goosebumps rolled down her shoulders.

"Hey, Numbuh 5," said Numbuh 362 from behind her.

She startled and nearly jumped out of her shoes as she whipped around into a snappy salute.

"N-Numbuh 362, sir!" replied Numbuh 5.

"At ease," giggled the Supreme Leader.

Numbuh 5 relaxed a small amount. She lightly made small talk, "So, uh, how's life up here?"

"As good as it ever gets," responded 362 with a reassuring smile, "We've had it easy lately." Then, with a slight grimace, she added, "Although, with the Delightful Children's birthday coming up again, I'm sure that's not going to last."

"Well, Numbuh 5 don't know about that, baby. Father hasn't tried anything big for over a year now."

"Mm, not since the Second Siege of Moonbase," 362 remarked, "But the Delightfuls themselves have been acting out more and more."

The field operative nodded and replied, "Yeah. But we'll handle 'em. We always have - except that one time with the scavenger hunt…"

Numbuh 362 put her head in her hands and groaned, " _Oh_ , I regret that one. My brother nearly got himself killed! And I have no idea what 74.239 was _thinking_ when he stole that cupcake. The whole thing was such a disaster, we're _still_ not sure what happened at the end of that debacle… But I meant every word of my apology, Numbuh 5, and I still do."

"Ah-hem," Numbuh 65.3 cleared his throat, interrupting them out of nowhere. He said irritably, "May I remind you, Numbuh 362, that you have half an hour?"

The Supreme Leader straightened her posture and nodded, responding, "Right," then, addressing Numbuh 5, she said, "What I had to learn again from the scavenger hunt fiasco - Lesson one: trust your best operatives' expertise. As Supreme Leader, you might make the decisions, but you don't always know best."

"So class is in session now, sir?" asked Numbuh 5 with a teasing lilt to her words.

A faint smirk tugging at the corners of her lips, Numbuh 362 answered, "Yes, it is. Now, walk with me."

* * *

"When you step into the role of Supreme Leader, you gain access to a lot of classified information. Black ops are debriefed by you, and you only. Rumors you never thought could be true turn out to be right on point. You have the ultimate say on what others are allowed to know. But there are still things too sensitive for even you to be told. The existence of teen operatives, for example,"

Surprise made itself known on Numbuh 5's face.

"You know, and I know - but neither one of us was meant to. You found out by accident. I found out because for several weeks after I first took over, I went digging after where these anonymous tips were coming from, and as a spy, I knew how to investigate. The Teens Next Door are supposed to only report to other members of Global Command - not the Supreme Leader. We're exceptions, not the rule. Whoever takes the post after you shouldn't be told. Do you understand?"

Numbuh 5 nodded slowly, solemnly saying, "Yeah... Numbuh 5 understands."

"Good," replied Numbuh 362. Then, with grave seriousness, she continued, "And regarding all that top secret information… it'll be your decision whether to declassify any of it or not. But I have to ask you not to release the report on Operation Z.E.R.O."

"Baby, there ain't nothin' in that report that people don't already know. It's the worst kept secret in the Kids Next Door!" exclaimed Numbuh 5.

The Supreme Leader responded, "Common knowledge or not, the tall tale status of the story that gets passed around is what keeps it _inside_ the Kids Next Door."

"... This doesn't have anything to do with those rumors about something big that got left outta the report, does it?" asked Numbuh 5 suspiciously.

"Nigel included everything, from Numbuh 0's identity, to the location of the Treehouse of Coolness, to Father being his own uncle and Grandfather his actual grandfather. What could possibly be a more shocking revelation?"

"That don't answer the question."

"Lesson two: don't let yourself be pushed around. As Supreme Leader, you decide what other people get to know, and they have to suck it up and accept it."

* * *

Their walk took them all around the Moonbase in twenty minutes.

Numbuh 5 caught glimpses of her teammates every now and then. Numbuh 4 and Numbuh 60 looking ready to strangle each other in the cafeteria. Numbuh 3 comforting a teary-eyed girl holding a slice of birthday cake as she was led away by Numbuh 86. Numbuh 2 claiming victory in a five-way yipper match in the hangar bay. Numbuh 1 arguing with Numbuh 74.239 over something written in a notebook as another scientist booted them out of the observatory.

Each and every brief sight of them reminded Sector V's second-in-command that she would barely see her old teammates at all after 362's birthday. They would be out in the field completing the wild, impossible missions that Sector V was known for. She would be on the moon, waiting to hear about them afterwards. It was… sobering, to think about what awaited her in less than a month's time.

Now, they were approaching the bridge once again.

"Prioritizing," said Numbuh 362 solemnly, "Is something you'll find yourself dealing with more than you would like. Limited resources, and more than one person who needs them. The Supreme Leader is the one who decides who gets things first. Sometimes it's as simple as who gets the last ice cream cone. Sometimes it's choosing what you're more willing to lose."

Numbuh 5 listened with a twisty feeling in her gut as they entered the bridge area. Numbuh 65.3 spotted them and began trailing behind the two girls with a clipboard in hand.

Numbuh 362 continued, "Let me give you an example. Imagine that Sector M and Sector RI are both under attack by villains at the level of, say, Stickybeard. Their vehicles are down and their defenses won't hold out for much longer. Sector W is available nearby but can't help them both. What would you do?"

She gave the dilemma careful thought, understanding that this was a test of her ability. She weighed her options and ran through her past experiences. Finally, she answered, "… Numbuh 5 would have Sector W help out Sector M first, because they host a lot of 2x4 technology research. And she would have Sector RI put their treehouse on lockdown till somebody else can get to them."

Satisfied, Numbuh 362 nodded, "I agree completely." She halted and turned to look at Numbuh 65.3 behind them. She declared, "You heard the girl. Relay those orders!"

"Sir, yes sir!" saluted the eastern seaboard's communications officer.

Numbuh 5 was speechless.

Numbuh 362 addressed her again, a proud smile on her face, "That was a good call, Abby."

"W-What…! You…! I…! Why?!"

Her superior tiredly said, "Finally, lesson three: always be ready to take charge. As Supreme Leader, you're never off the clock."

* * *

 _24 days later…_

The entire Kids Next Door, every operative from the Arctic Base to the Deep Sea Science Lab, was sitting still and quiet in their treehouses. Teammates gathered together around their televisions to watch the KNN broadcast of the Supreme Leader's thirteenth birthday.

Some operatives, like Numbuh 9, chose make public occasions of their decommissioning ceremony. Others wanted theirs to happen completely in private, with no witnesses besides Numbuh 86 and the Decommissioning Squad. Numbuh 362 fell between the two extremes. She had wanted a smaller sendoff, and so the only ones she'd allowed in the room with her were a few other members of Global Command, her younger brother, and Sector V. However, she also had the rest of the organization to think about, and had ultimately brought in Sector L as well, so that they could broadcast her final speech as Supreme Leader and as a KND operative.

She stood at the podium with a slice of cake in front of her and Numbuh 86 behind her and to the left. The Global Tactical Officer and veteran Head of Decommissioning bore a stoic facade that was absolutely flawless, unless you knew her. Off-camera to her right, her younger brother Harvey, Numbuh 60, and Sector V stood silently, mournful expressions on their faces. On the other side of the stage was the Head Diplomat Numbuh Infinity and several members of the Decommissioning Squad.

Numbuh 362 faced the empty theater before her. It was odd to be talking to no one, but looking at the camera, she thought of every Kids Next Door operative that must have been watching her expectantly.

She began to speak, "My fellow Kids Next Door… I've had a good run of years… Become Supreme Leader. Seen events that are sure to become legends someday. Made great friends who I'll be sad to forget... But I'm not afraid to go. I'm not afraid, because I know that the organization that has made me so proud will live on when I'm gone."

She took a deep breath and continued, "This organization has been handed down to us from generations of kids before us, and we'll hand it down to those after us. Here and now, I'm handing down my small part in this organization... I leave the Kids Next Door in the capable hands of Numbuh 5 of Sector V. The people who make up the Kids Next Door might change, but the heart will always be the same. I know you'll make the new Supreme Leader as proud as you've made me. And I know you will, because _Kids Next Door rules_!"

She saluted, and then looked down at the small, flickering flame of the candle in her slice of birthday cake. She puckered her lips and blew out the candle with a soft breath. Then, she stepped down from the podium. Numbuh 86 understood the signal and turned to face the door of the decommissioning chamber. It was with faintly trembling fingers that the Irish girl placed her hand on the lever of the machine that would wipe away her best friend's memories of the organization she loved. Numbuh 362 gave her a reassuring smile as she entered the dreaded chamber.

Numbuh 5 felt the weight of the world fall upon her shoulders as Numbuh 362 walked into the decommissioning chamber, and after a scream and a flash of light, Rachel T. McKenzie walked out.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Hope you enjoyed reading. Please review!

 **Edit:** Okay, so I only recently noticed that I've been spelling Wally and Joey's last name wrong. Whoops! It's "Beetles" not "Beatles". Apparently either no one noticed or no one bothered to mention it, but whichever way it was, I've fixed the spelling in all the past chapters and will use the correct spelling from now on. **\- 8/1/2016**


	6. Ch 5: Gold

**Chapter 5: Gold**

They landed the rocket on top of an empty parking garage in the middle of the city. No one noticed. Perhaps it was because it was almost midnight, or perhaps it was because people were just that oblivious - either way, it worked to their advantage.

"Point C is _Cincinnati_?" exclaimed Nigel.

He looked around in disbelief as he climbed down from the ship's exit. From their rooftop, the group had a decent view of the cityscape around them. Nigel was actually familiar with what Cincinnati looked like, but even if he hadn't been, there was a very large billboard helpfully proclaiming, " _Welcome to Cincinnati!_ " on the next roof over to give him their location.

"Where did you _think_ we were going?" snorted Mushi derisively, "Some secret fortress in the middle of nowhere?"

The bald boy adjusted his glasses and responded tiredly, "After everything that's happened tonight, that would have been less surprising than someplace so… normal."

"My bag, please," interrupted Father with a frown, holding out a hand expectantly.

Nigel remembered that he was still carrying the satchel after Cree had kicked it at them. "Oh, right," he replied as he shrugged the strap of the raggedy bag off his shoulder. He tossed the threadbare bundle to his uncle. The adult caught it with a neutral expression.

Joey, the last of their group, hopped down from the rocket. His sneakers landed on the asphalt with a _thud_. The boy shivered in the cold, night air and pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head.

"Get moving already," Father shooed them all toward the stairs at the center of the rooftop as he added, "It's a twenty-minute walk from here to the hotel."

"The hotel?" questioned Hoagie with a raised eyebrow.

Tommy fixed his hat as he replied casually, "Yeah, it's where our families are staying."

* * *

As the group waited at an intersection for the crosswalk to allow them across the street, Father rummaged about in his satchel. He removed four brightly colored, collapsible umbrellas. They looked cheap and plastic, but had considerably more heft to them than their small size would suggest. There was one red, one teal, one green, and one yellow. How nice of him to have color-coded them.

"Here," said the man brusquely as he passed them out to the decommissioned teens, "Keep those with you if you leave the one-mile radius of the hotel."

"Umbrellas?" questioned Wally with a fair bit of skepticism as he threw his yellow-orange umbrella into the air and then caught it again.

Father explained matter-of-factly, "They're portable shields from KND tracking. Unless you want to get caught by the Executives, stay within fifty yards of one at all times."

Traffic ground to a slow stop, and the crosswalk signal changed to let them through the intersection.

* * *

The hotel building was nice, but not exactly memorable. It had neatly trimmed hedges and new-looking pavement, and the glass door was shiny and clean. Light spilled out of the entrance, offering a beacon of shelter along an otherwise dark boulevard of Cincinnati. The place looked quaint and welcoming and completely, stupefyingly, unbearably normal. After being kidnapped by their siblings, told that they were once top operatives for a secret organization of tyranny-fighting kids, and chased four hundred miles by flying vehicles that used food for weapons, Nigel, Hoagie, Kuki, and Wally were having some difficulty wrapping their heads around the idea that the wholly unremarkable four-star inn that stood before them was their safe house.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" said Tommy.

He slung his backpack off his shoulders and reached inside to pull out four smartphones. One had a simple, functional, red case; another was sky-blue with airplane stickers on it; a third was covered in a pink and green case apparently patterned after a slice of watermelon; and the fourth had a plain, black covering that was very beat-up-looking.

"Our phones!" exclaimed Hoagie, " _You_ had them this whole time?"

"What the cruddy hell?!" shouted Wally with indignance.

Joey shuffled his feet and meekly apologized, "Sorry, but we couldn't have you guys calling 911…"

Tommy shrugged without regret, "Well, you can have them back _now_."

The younger Gilligan held out the devices in offering, and the decommissioned teens snatched back their phones with several grumbles of discontent.

* * *

Inside the hotel, sitting on the leather couches around a large, circular table in the lobby, were four pairs of parents, one single mother, and one grouchy grandmother. Most of them were laughing and chatting away happily, several glasses of wine among them.

When Nigel, Hoagie, Kuki, and Wally entered the hotel after their younger siblings, they stiffened at the sight of their families. Tommy, Mushi, and Joey had already halted, apprehension apparent in the grimaces on their faces. After all, no matter what the situation, there's nothing ever quite as alarming to children and teenagers alike as seeing parents socializing with each other.

"Come on, move it. Don't you want to see your families?" said Father sourly as he pushed open the door.

At the sound of his voice, the gathering of parents at the table turned their heads and looked at the entrance, where their children were.

"Hey, Wallabee! Hey, Joey! Glad you and your friends made it, eh!" exclaimed Mr. Beetles brightly.

Mrs. Sanban spoke with an undercurrent of concern coloring her voice, "Kuki, Mushi, come here. Are you girls feeling alright? I know long road trips don't sit well with you."

Ms. Gilligan said with a sigh of relief, "Oh, I was worried you boys had gone home. I guess it's a good thing I bought that phone for you after all, Hoagie! Wouldn't want you to miss out on anything, eheh!"

"Nigel, old bean!" grinned Mr. Uno, "You got that text message thingy after all!"

The decommissioned teens were incredibly confused.

Nigel asked, "Text message?"

"You know, the one telling you to meet Ben outside your school to get picked up with your friends instead of going home."

Despite feeling bewildered and tired, the bald boy played along, "Right... _that_ text message."

"Oh, isn't this _exciting_?" exclaimed Mrs. Beetles enthusiastically, "A free, week-long vacation in Cincinnati! And you kids get to go to that early summer camp with the wonderful brochure!"

Dr. Lincoln interrupted with curiosity, "Say, where are my daughters with their chatting, and the hugs, and the - oh, you know what I mean?"

Father answered clippedly, "They're already at the camp, remember? Your older daughter drove your youngest yesterday. They just didn't want to make the trip back here."

"Aw, I know that, but they really didn't want to come back and say goodbye to their mom and pop?" The doctor was disappointed, but not too much so. He went on to shrug and say, "Well, kids. They grow up. What can you do?"

"This is _baloney_ ," complained Lydia Gilligan. The elderly woman slammed her cane down on top of the table with a _bang_.

Everyone flinched and fell silent.

Ms. Gilligan was mortified as she exclaimed, " _Mom!_ Oh, you know what, it really is very late. We should get going to bed now. All the luggage is up in the room already. Tommy, Hoagie, Mom, _let's go_."

The brunette woman stood up and smoothed out her dress, then hurriedly tried to help her mother up out of her chair (not that she needed to - Lydia Gilligan slapped her hand away the second she reached for her and pulled herself out of her seat without aid).

"Uh, okay?" said Hoagie. He shrugged to his friends, "See ya, guys. Come on, Tommy."

Before the Gilligan brothers walked away, Father announced loudly, "All you kids, be back here in the lobby by four in the afternoon tomorrow. I'll meet you then, so you can go to _summer camp_."

"Oh, jolly good!" chuckled Mr. Uno as he waved, "We'll be seeing you, Ben! Come along, Nigel, Ms. Gilligan is right - it really is quite late, eh?" He and his wife got up and began moving toward the elevators nearby, their son shuffling along behind them without a clue as to what was going on. The man continued cheerfully, "And what a day it's been! Can you believe what a fantastic coincidence it is that this trip we've won is sponsored by Ben's new company?"

The other parents were dispersing as well. Mr. and Mrs. Sanban called for their daughters as they followed the Unos to the elevators. Kuki was as puzzled by the situation as her friends, but Mushi acted like nothing was unusual, putting on a peppy, giggly facade. The Beetles couple laughed together with the Lincolns at some terrible joke before they stood up and motioned for their sons to come over. Joey went obediently and Wally grudgingly. The family of four and the two parents whose children were gone all left as a group to catch the next elevator up.

At that point, the only person left in the lobby, other than the bored desk clerk, was Father.

He sighed tiredly and kneaded the bridge of his nose with growl of frustration. The man who had once terrorized the Kids Next Door and several times almost destroyed the organization seemed, in that moment, just an overworked, middle-aged parent who really needed a break.

 _Ding ding! Ding ding!_

Father removed his phone from his pocket and answered the call.

"Hello?"

…

"For Pete's sake, why are you still awake? It's practically tomorrow!"

…

"Uh-huh. That's no excuse. None of them should be - and _you're_ supposed to be the responsible one."

…

"Alright, alright..."

…

"Hmph, well, tell Toiletnator he's in big trouble when I get back."

...

"Mm-hm. Me too."

…

"Goodbye."

He ended the call and left the hotel building with a faint smile tugging at his lips.

* * *

The next morning, Nigel, Hoagie, Kuki, and Wally found themselves woken up by their parents at almost the exact same time, and all for the exact same reason.

Breakfast.

Only half-awake, they were rushed through their morning routines in the hotel rooms they shared with their families. They brushed their teeth, washed up, and combed their hair if they had any. Wally spent ten frustrating minutes looking for his sneakers, which had been underneath the nightstand the entire time. Kuki was irritated by her younger sister hogging the bathroom for almost half an hour. In the luggage that his mother had put together, Hoagie found a new outfit just like his one from the day before and put the entire thing on inside out by accident, and his grandmother laughed. As he dug through the duffel bag his parents had packed for him, Nigel obsessed over the stray threads coming off his socks, vowing to find a pair that still looked new - he never managed to.

It was for one reason or another than none of them got off to a great start that day. However, when they got down to the lobby and ran into each other on their way to the hotel cafe, their moods became much improved. Breakfast with friends was much more enjoyable than eating with their families - especially when their parents were more liable to question why their kids were bringing umbrellas with them when it was a perfectly sunny day.

The four decommissioned teens claimed a small table at the back of the lobby for themselves while their parents and siblings mingled as a larger group. The early morning sunlight streaming in through the eastern windows made a pretty picture of the otherwise drab eating area.

"Ahhh," yawned Hoagie as he picked at a bowl of cereal, "So, did you guys sleep well?"

Wally responded, "I slept okay. Wish we coulda stayed in longer."

"We're already catching the tail end of breakfast," interjected Nigel.

The blond boy snorted, "It's not like this matters though, is it? I mean, what the hell is going on?"

Kuki spoke, "Our parents all think they won a vacation, and we're going to summer camp."

"But school's still going on! Finals are in two weeks!" protested Hoagie.

Nigel elaborated sarcastically, "Apparently it's an _early_ summer camp."

"What does it matter?" Wally tossed the wrapper of his chocolate muffin in the middle of the table as he groused, "The world's gone cruddy bonkers."

 _Screeeech. Screeeeech._

All of them winced at the terrible noise. They looked up from their food and saw Tommy and Mushi pushing another table across the tiles of the floor, heading right towards them. Joey followed behind the two older children with a stack of folding chairs.

"Do you have to be so _loud_?" complained Hoagie.

Nigel got out of his chair and pulled it away from the table so that his friends' younger siblings could line up the table they were bringing over with the old one. They did so with gusto, slamming the edge of the new table into the old one so hard that Hoagie and Kuki's cereal bowls rattled. Nigel gingerly replaced his chair at the crack between both tables as Joey arranged the seats for the new one.

 _Bang!_

Mushi loudly dropped an extra-large bowl of steaming, jiggling, vividly yellow scrambled eggs onto the table in front of the decommissioned teens. Tommy followed suit by sliding a plate of greasy, questionable sausage (it looked almost _green_ ) next to the bowl. Joey tossed down six plastic sporks between the china and then gently set a glass pitcher of orange juice on the other side of the scrambled eggs.

"Um… Hi?" greeted Kuki uncertainly.

Nigel deadpanned, "You're standing on the table."

Tommy, Joey, and Mushi hopped off and climbed into the chairs they'd brought with them. They placed their hands on the table in front of them, fingers locked, and smiled, looking for all the world like perfect little angels.

"What are you guys up to?" inquired Hoagie warily.

Mushi looked offended and hurt as she replied, "Can't we make our wonderful older siblings breakfast without ulterior motives?"

"Joey? Sure. You and Tommy? No," scoffed Wally with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed at the 11-year-old girl, who never dropped her innocent smile.

"Come on, that's not fair! We went through all this effort!" exclaimed Tommy.

Hoagie put his hands on his hips and responded skeptically, "What effort? Some employee in the kitchen made all this! You just took it from the buffet."

"But you really should eat," interrupted Joey softly, "Our parents have a lot planned for this morning. We're going to the art museum _and_ the zoo before lunch."

" _Why?_ " asked Wally incredulously, "With everything that happened yesterday, _why_ are we acting like… like…!"

"... Like it's all okay. Like everything's normal," finished Kuki sadly, "Even though _it's not_."

Tommy answered matter-of-factly, "It's just what we always do."

Mushi said sharply, "We heard you guys talking about what our parents think is happening - summer camp is the cover story, and if you want them to be safe, you'll stick with it."

"The cover story for all this," responded Nigel exasperatedly, "Is really _summer camp_?"

With a shrug, Tommy commented, "You guys seemed fine with it last night."

Nigel replied flatly, "Last night, we were tired, shocked, and coming off of a lot of adrenaline. Now that we're thinking straight, that excuse seems, quite frankly, ridiculous! How does anyone buy it?"

"People can ignore a lot of strange things without any reason," stated Mushi wryly, "Our parents always have, and you guys never even noticed all those weapons outside the Delightful Mansion. _Or_ the giant treehouse at baldy's place all these years."

Hoagie admitted thoughtfully, "Y'know, she's got a point about the treehouse."

Wally groaned and interjected, "Can we blame the mind-wipe thingy for that?"

"Actually, you kinda can," responded Joey after swallowing a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

"Huh? Really?" exclaimed Wally, surprised.

Everyone looked interested.

The younger Beetles nodded, explaining, "Yeah. It's one of the effects of decommissioning. Kids and teens who are decommissioned become as oblivious as most adults. You sorta… suppress the ability to notice or remember any new things that remind you of the Kids Next Door. The suppression can be unlearned, but it gets harder the older someone is. We call it the 'Zero Effect'," he paused and then proudly proclaimed, "I read about it in a research paper."

"Who researches that kind of stuff?" questioned Hoagie with an odd expression.

"The Kids Next Door, duh," answered Mushi before Joey could speak. The girl glanced sideways at the young boy barely out of his cadet training before she continued sourly, "He's misquoting a famous case study from a few years ago."

Tommy exclaimed, "Oh, that's the one research paper I kept hearing about but never got to read! I really wanted to get a hold of it, but you have to be part of the KND to see any of their official stuff. And it was really frustrating, because that study was just _barely_ official!"

"How can something be barely official?" asked Kuki.

Mushi replied, "The research was done off the books, and was led by a field operative instead of a KND scientist. It was an amateur project that broke more than one regulation but turned up amazing results that got it excused. That study was the most progress made in the field of decommissioning research since the _founding era_ of the Seventh Age, even though rules say it shouldn't have been allowed. The reason it was made official was because the leader's research partner _was_ a KND scientist, and a really important one, too. He pushed it through to publication not long after the field operative's death."

"Death?!" exclaimed the decommissioned teens in wide-eyed alarm.

"Oops, sorry," giggled Mushi with insincere regret, "Did I say death? I meant decommissioning. He turned thirteen, that's all. Don't worry your little teenage heads about it, the guy's alive and well at this very moment."

Tommy rolled his eyes and sarcastically declared through a mouthful of breakfast, "I just _love_ how you act like you're actually an operative."

Confused, Kuki asked, "Mushi, you're not in the Kids Next Door like Joey is?"

"Pfft, as if," snorted the younger Sanban dismissively, "Joining the Kids Next Door is the _last_ thing I'd ever want to do."

Tommy raised an eyebrow and replied, "That's funny, because I think I remember the Kids Next Door being the ones to get you out of your permanent grounding. Now, why would they do that _and_ give you access to their official files?"

Dr. Lincoln interrupted the conversation when he shouted, "Hey, kiddos! The museum opens in ten minutes, with all the paintings, and the sculptures, and the- oh, you know what I mean. Don't want to miss the first tour!"

Mushi turned away from the rest of the group. The 11-year-old girl put on a deceptively innocent smile and exclaimed with cavity-inducing sweetness, "We're coming, Dr. Lincoln~!"

"Kuki," said Wally apprehensively, "Your sister's kinda weird."

* * *

The museum went more or less as you would expect. The youths suffered through it while their parents oohed and ahhed at paintings that didn't look like anything special. Near the end, the families split up. The Lincolns wanted to take a walk around the block. The Gilligans went ahead to the bus stop to wait for everyone. The Beetles really needed to go to the bathroom. The Sanban family was trapped in the gift shop as Mr. and Mrs. Sanban debated the merits of picking up a souvenir or not. The Unos just wanted to stay a while longer inside the art museum.

"This one's quite terrific, wouldn't you say, Nigel, old bean?" asked Mr. Uno brightly.

The bald boy rolled his eyes and replied, "Dad, that's a poster for the gift shop. It's not art."

"Oh. Well, it's still quite lovely, eh?"

Mrs. Uno responded cheerily, "I think so, dear."

"Mom, Dad," complained Nigel, "Can we just go now? All my friends are going to be waiting outside for us if we stay much longer."

His dad's face fell into disappointment, and the adult said, "Oh, sure, if you'd like that, son. I just thought you loved museums. You were always going off to one when you were younger."

The boy was puzzled, as he couldn't seem to recall any museum in particular in his memory. He replied hesitantly, "... I did?"

The family of three turned a corner and began walking toward the museum's entrance hall.

Mr. Uno exclaimed, "Of course you did, son! Oh, it was when you were eleven or twelve… Always going to that one museum your gadget club liked, so you could meet with your friend Matty. Seemed like every weekend you'd go."

"Who's Matty?"

Mrs. Uno answered, "Nigel, dear, I know it's been a few years, but you _must_ remember Matt! He was that nice boy who always wore that purple coat that was much too big for him. He used to come over even when you weren't around. The little sweetheart really looked up to you and your friends. It's a shame he stopped visiting after your thirteenth birthday."

"Right, of course…" chuckled Nigel nervously, "Matt. I remember him." _Or at least, I will._

* * *

"We do _not_ need another stuffed toy in our house!" exclaimed Mrs. Sanban.

Mr. Sanban begged shamelessly, "But it's so cuuuuute! And neither of the girls has a penguin!"

"No, what they have is far, _far_ too many Rainbow Monkeys. We don't have room for another toy!" replied the woman firmly.

Her husband hugged the giant toy to his chest and protested, "It's not that big! And it also works as a pillow! An adorable, fluffy pillow!"

Kuki and Mushi watched as the argument swung back and forth between their parents. It was a verbal tennis match with the fate of a plush penguin held in the balance. Neither of them really cared about the penguin, though. It was just very amusing to see their father so attached to the toy while being completely unwilling to admit that he wanted it for himself.

"No!"

"Please?"

"No!"

"For the girls?"

"No!"

"But why not?"

Mrs. Sanban's eye twitched in frustration. She growled, "Because we have far too many stuffed animals already. I hadn't even realized how many we'd bought until Kuki moved the ones she used to keep in that treehouse back to her room. You couldn't open the door without having Rainbow Monkeys fall out into the hallway! We still have two closets full of Rainbow Monkeys that haven't been touched in years! _No more toys_!"

"But-"

"No!"

"Please?"

"No!"

Kuki looked at Mushi and asked curiously, "Did I really keep my Rainbow Monkeys in the treehouse?"

The younger girl replied grouchily, "Yeah, you did. You were really obsessed with them for a _long_ time. You and the rest of your sector even discovered an island full of real Rainbow Monkeys."

"Oh, come on. As if that's believable. You're not even trying, Mushi," scoffed Kuki. _Hmph, trying to make me feel stupid for falling for a lie that obvious. Not gonna work! She won't fool me before I get those memories back._

"Pretty pretty please?"

"No!"

"Pretty pretty please with cherry on top?"

"No!"

Kuki suddenly felt sorry for her dad, and a little guilty that they had two closets full of old stuffed animals at home. She interrupted her parents, "You know, we could give away those old Rainbow Monkeys. I'm not too attached to the ones in the closets anymore…"

"Really?" exclaimed her mother, surprised, "That… That's very generous of you, Kuki. Of course we can give them away."

With a wobbling lip and watery eyes, Mr. Sanban asked, "Does that mean we can get this penguin?"

"No!"

* * *

Wally and Joey were waiting on the bench outside the restroom for their parents to come out. It was a very nicely well-lit area, at least in the morning. There were very few lights in the ceiling, but there were tall windows nearby that let in bright rays of shining sun. The old wooden planks the boys were sitting on creaked as Joey shifted to let his knees hang over the edge of the bench.

Wally was complaining about how he'd picked the one stall that was out of toilet paper and then somehow managed to slip on the floor on his way out, landing painfully on his tailbone.

"Why is it always _my_ bad luck?" groaned Wally, "Ya'd think I broke like a bajillion mirrors."

Joey replied, "According to the KND archive, you actually did."

"What? When was that?" questioned Wally, surprised.

The younger Beetles thought carefully for a moment and then answered, "I think you were ten? It was during a 'vaseball' game that got everyone in town grounded. I was too young to remember, but I listened to a recording of the broadcast that the Kids Next Door held onto."

"What's vaseball?"

Joey responded, "It's like baseball, but with things like plates and bowls that are breakable. Someone stole mom's purple vase and you went to get it back."

"Oh. Did I get it?" asked Wally curiously.

With a laugh, Joey said, "Well, we still have it, so yeah."

"Ah, good."

"Mm-hm," nodded Joey, "You'll remember the whole thing soon."

Wally snorted, "It'll be nice to have some clue what's going on."

"..."

"..."

"... Wally?"

"Yeah, Joey?"

The boy looked down at his feet, nervously swinging them back and forth as he tentatively asked, "You… You won't be disappointed in me, will you? … For working with bad people like Father and Cree?"

Wally gave his younger brother a reassuring smile and ruffled the 7-year-old's hair, responding, "They didn't seem that bad to me. Besides, I could never be disappointed in you, Joey. You're my little brother."

* * *

According to the schedule, the bus that they would be taking to the zoo wasn't going to arrive for another fifteen minutes. While that gave the Unos some more time to enjoy the art museum, the Sanbans a longer window to debate in the gift shop, and the Beetles family the chance to use the restroom, it left the Gilligans waiting at the bus stop bench with nothing to do. Ms. Gilligan seemed quite content and was genuinely enjoying the day. Tommy was bored out of his mind, but keeping his mouth shut out of consideration. Lydia Gilligan was impatiently muttering insults under her breath, but that was nothing unusual. Hoagie felt like their morning museum trip had been quite surreal.

"Hey, munchkin!" exclaimed Lydia, poking Hoagie in the leg with her cane.

"What is it, Grandma?" replied the teen irritably.

"Help me find the bathroom," demanded the elderly woman.

Annoyed, Hoagie complained, "What? Now? Why didn't you go with the Beetles when they left five minutes ago?"

She smacked him over the head with her walking cane and said, "Just do it, you little imbecile."

"Ow! Okay, okay!"

Hoagie stood up, as did his grandmother. He began walking up the steps to the museum, going slowly both because he was tired and because of the senior citizen following him. Once in the shadow of the columns supporting the overhang at the face of the building, he stopped and turned to wait for Lydia to catch up.

"Eep!"

He had not expected her to be directly behind him.

What he expected even less was for her to yank him behind one of the columns with the crook of her cane and lift him up by the collar of his shirt as if she were a very wrinkled, liver-spotted thug.

"Alright, you little potato, what do you know?" interrogated the elderly woman menacingly, spit flying out of her mouth and onto his face.

Hoagie stuttered fearfully, "G-G-Grandma? Why? W-what?"

She waved her cane at the sky as she ordered him, "Tell me what in the name of denture cream is going on out there!"

"I-I don't know! _Please_ , put me down!" begged the frightened boy.

Lydia jabbed the end of her cane at his face, coming within centimeters of his nose. He flinched and looked away. She paused and, after a moment of thought, lowered her cane. Then, Hoagie's grandmother unceremoniously let go of his shirt and let him land on his backside on the concrete floor.

"Oof!"

From his position on the ground, Lydia loomed over him like a gargoyle. Hoagie gulped.

The woman spoke heavily, "You haven't been recommissioned yet, have you, boy?"

"N-no, I haven't," responded her oldest grandson. Then, her question registered in his brain. He brushed the dirt off his clothes and asked accusatorily, "Wait a minute, how do you know about that?"

She ignored him, rambling to herself, "Those noisy younglings are useless, the munchkins' leaders are trapped on the moon, we adults can't get a moment's peace with the upstarts snatching us up, and what's that chicken-faced chimney stack doing? Nothing. Oh, he'll find more kids to do the dirty work for him, but does he get a fire going under them? No! He let's them spend a day touristing whatever stupid city this is, instead of recommissioning them! The good-for-nothing matchstick has gone soft. Pah!"

Hoagie was thoroughly confused. He inquired, "Um, how do you know about recommissioning? And the kids trapped on the moon?"

Lydia listed off her answers, "One: I used to have to deal with you when you were in that stupid Kids Next Door. Two: word travels fast when adults' biggest pain in the tushie goes poof."

"Oh… okay?"

The elderly woman hooked the back of his shirt with her cane and yanked him to his feet, saying, "Get up and get outta here. I can find the bathroom myself. And when you can actually remember your thirteenth birthday, get cracking at that Moonbase and those upstart Executives. I want to go home, you know."

She shoved him at the staircase and turned around to open the doors to the museum herself.

As he climbed down the stairs, Hoagie felt dazed, like he'd been hit upside the head by something much heavier than his grandmother's walking cane. He looked up at the morning sky and saw a dusty, cratered half-circle hanging in the west. The moon. There were kids trapped way up there, and who knew if they were still okay? Recommissioning or not, how was _he_ supposed to be able to fix anything in the crazy situation they'd found themselves in?

When he made it back to the bus stop bench, he quietly asked Tommy, "Hey, uh, is Grandma one of those adult villains you were talking about?"

"Yeah, why?"

"She just tried to interrogate me about the Executives and that kind of stuff."

"What?" exclaimed Tommy panickedly, "Oh boy, I should have warned you. Are you okay?"

Hoagie nodded, replying, "Uh, yeah, I think so. It's just… Everything is so overwhelming, but Grandma expected me to know how to handle these problems when I get recommissioned... It's really hitting me right now that people are being _kidnapped_ , and there are a bunch of poor kids stuck on the _moon_ \- what must their families be thinking right now? These are _big_ problems, and you seem to think that getting me, Wally, Kuki, and Nigel on your side makes that much of a difference in fixing them. But how? We're only four people, not an army."

Tommy patted him on the back with a reassuring smile and said, "Every bit of help counts in this fight. And you might not remember it, but you guys have beaten worse odds... But do you want to know why you make that much of a difference? The things you did in the Kids Next Door, the things that made you heroes - they inspire eleventy thousand kids around the _world_! Sector V is _worth_ an army."

"Aw… Thanks, Tommy," Hoagie felt deeply moved by his younger brothers words. He sniffled, "You're really really biased, but thanks."

Ms. Gilligan interrupted curiously, "Oh, what are you boys talking about?"

Hoagie replied, "Just a game I used to play. Tommy's helping me get back into it, and I'm looking forward to that."

"Aw, it's nice to see you two getting along," responded Ms. Gilligan brightly.

* * *

The rest of their morning and early afternoon was a pleasant, touristy experience. They went to the zoo, picked out a nice restaurant for lunch, and then spent a few hours just shopping downtown. It was 3:30 when everyone arrived back at the hotel.

The group split up to go back to their rooms. The adults were all a little bit worn out by all the walking they had done, so they stayed in there to rest and relax. This left their children to pick up their bags and get down to the lobby by themselves - for all that you might think this would make them late to meet Father, the group was actually early by a decent amount of time. It was by 3:45 that the decommissioned teens and their younger siblings were all gathered around the same table that their families had been sitting at the night before. Their luggage (three small suitcases, three duffel bags, and one backpack) sat clustered together next to the largest couch.

Four brightly colored umbrellas lay on the shiny, marble surface of the tabletop, their vibrant colors hazily reflected in the speckled stone.

"Are we gonna have to bring these stupid umbrellas with us everywhere?" asked Wally.

Nigel replied gloomily, "Probably."

Joey tried to make the somewhat anxious teens feel better by saying, "It's only until we beat the Executives."

The doors to the lobby opened.

Father raised an eyebrow as he remarked, "You're early."

"So are you," responded Mushi snappily.

"Hmph," grumbled the adult, "Well, if you've said your goodbyes and are ready to go…"

They stood and passed the luggage around until everyone had their belongings.

With very little fuss and without a word, the entourage followed Father out of the hotel. Carrying their bags and dragging their suitcases, the group walked along the city sidewalks, wheels rolling over every bump and crack in the concrete. For ten minutes, they moved in silence until Father stopped at the entrance to...

"A city park?" questioned Kuki.

Father replied, "It's where I moved the ship. There's an isolated spot with a lot of tree cover a little ways in."

"How'd you fly it all by yourself?" asked Wally.

The adult answered blandly, "Autopilot is a wonderful thing when you're not being shot at. Now, let's go."

* * *

There was a shady alcove a few minutes hike into the woods. It was accessible through a narrow, brambly path hidden behind a curtain of loose ivy between two large bushes. Inside that natural, green arbor, you could hardly guess that there was a city just beyond the treeline. Cricket sounds and snatches of birdsong filled the atmosphere instead of car horns and traffic. The air tasted sweet and fresh. It was a grassy, cozy, relaxing little place that must have enchanted any children who had chanced upon it over the years and made it their secret hideout.

It was apparently also an excellent spot to park a rocket.

The decommissioned teens were gathered together near the ship, their postures erect and formal. Father, Tommy, Mushi, and Joey stood a little ways away, and in his hands Father held the repaired recommissioning module. All the luggage that the kids and teens had brought with them was sitting haphazardly in a pile out of the way.

Joey picked his nose. He removed his index finger from his nostril, and at the tip of the finger was a fresh, gooey booger. Father lowered the recommissioning module toward him. The blond boy reached up and stuck his booger in the hole that concealed the module's DNA receiver. Once the deed was done, Father lifted the wooden box back up to his elbow level.

"One last chance," the adult addressed the teens cautiously, "Are you sure you want this?"

The teens looked each other in the eyes and, one by one, they nodded.

Nigel verbally replied, "Yes… We're sure. I think we've been sure for a while now."

Hoagie agreed, "Yeah. We want our memories back."

"Definitely!" exclaimed Kuki with a determined look.

"Stop putting it off," said Wally impatiently, "Just do it already, would ya?"

Father rolled his eyes before replying, "Okay. Here it goes."

He wrapped his fingers around the handle of the recommissioning module and began turning it. The mechanism gave him more resistance than he expected and he pushed harder. The light, ringing notes of the song that accompanied the module's use played at first slowly and softly. Then, with every turn of the crank, the music crescendoed and suspense climbed ever higher until a beam of light shot out of the telescope lens at the front of the device.

It struck all four decommissioned teens at once. They screamed, which alarmed their younger siblings, but Father never faltered as he continued to crank the handle of the recommissioning module.

The entire ordeal couldn't have lasted more than a few seconds, but with their hearts beating fast in their chests, it seemed like an eternity. Those who weren't undergoing the process of recommissioning bit their lips and watched tensely, too enthralled to close their eyes or look away. Then, suddenly, the light became blinding and the screaming abruptly stopped.

Smoke filled the air, masking visibility and making the younger children cough.

Mushi wheezed, "... Did it work?"

* * *

 _Numbuh 5 felt the weight of the world fall upon her shoulders as Numbuh 362 walked into the decommissioning chamber, and after a scream and a flash of light, Rachel T. McKenzie walked out._

 **KND**

For the most part, Numbuh 5's term as Supreme Leader was smooth sailing all around. She was stern but not bossy when she gave orders, which made it easy for others on Moonbase to work with her. She made good decisions and people liked her laid-back attitude. The girl tended to take more days off than the rest of Global Command really approved of, but they respected her leadership.

Under her charge, the Kids Next Door had signed a truce with the candy pirates, Stickybeard being the one representing them. There were whispers of an under-the-table deal between the candy pirate captain and the ex-candy-hunter, but the truth was that both were simply glad to have an armistice with the other. Let it never be said that Sector V always hated their enemies.

Her day-to-day life had become filled with decisions to be made, both small and large. Rarely did she get the chance to hang out with her friends anymore, although from the mission reports she received, they seemed to be doing fine without her. She was glad of it. That wasn't to say that she didn't miss being a field operative with her sector.

As much as she liked leading the Kids Next Door, Numbuh 5 sometimes missed not having to make the hard choices. The stress of being Supreme Leader wasn't exactly light. She could certainly see what had driven Numbuh 362 to call a game of tag a few years ago. She could also admit that if she herself had been forced to bear the position for a long time, she probably would've cracked and wound up doing the same. But as it was, Numbuh 5's five short months as Supreme Leader were exactly that - short. The time flew by much faster than the girl would've liked.

Numbuh 5 had to admit that Numbuh 362 had been right - the job as a whole had really grown on her.

What hadn't grown on her were the morning meetings she had to take with the rest of Global Command.

In a glass-domed rotunda near the top deck of Moonbase there was a round table made of a giant tire. The carpet was turf and the dozen or so chairs were repurposed footstools. This was the council room, where Global Command discussed major concerns. It was used for tribunals, tactical meetings, and whining to the Supreme Leader about whatever issues were on the agenda that week.

She knew that being in charge of the entire Kids Next Door came with its ups and downs, and she could usually put up with the council meetings. However, with her decommissioning coming up in seven days' time, the rest of Global Command had been getting bolder challenging her authority when they disagreed with her. It was frustrating, and she wondered if Numbuh 362 had ever had to deal with something similar.

"Okay," sighed Numbuh 5, "So, what's the issue this week?"

She expected a clamor of yells and waving hands and Numbuh 86 shouting over the rest of them as usual. The unified response she received instead surprised her.

Numbuh 65.3 stood and saluted. The others remained silent. He spoke, "Today, we have a shared concern that we would like to discuss."

Numbuh 5 raised an eyebrow and replied, "Well, spit it out, baby."

"Father's recent inactivity has many of us worried. We'd like to come to a consensus about what to do about it before this meeting ends."

"Mm-hm," responded the Supreme Leader thoughtfully, "So, Father ain't been doing anything much lately, right? If he don't wanna bother us, Numbuh 5 doesn't see why the Kids Next Door should provoke him."

Numbuh 20,000 (the trigger-happy ex-security-operative had received a promotion to Moonbase to get him out of the field) exclaimed, "But he's planning something! He has to be! It's going to be something big if he hasn't tried anything for this long!"

"As much as I hate to agree with this lunatic," said Numbuh 86 sourly, "I do think it's suspicious that we haven't seen any recent schemes from him, lass."

Numbuh 5 crossed her arms and kicked her feet up onto the table, replying with a dismissive shrug, "Two o' the Delightful Children had birthdays in the past five months. That counts, don't it?"

"And Sector V recovered the cake intact both times," added Numbuh 60, ever the voice of reason and devil's advocate. He argued logically, "While the success of the missions is undoubtedly a good thing, the ease with which we captured the cakes says something about how uninterested in the Delightfuls' birthdays Father was. There hasn't been any other activity from him either. It seems likely that he's been distracted by some bigger plan to destroy the Kids Next Door."

"Or," suggested Numbuh 5 flatly, "He just ain't doin' anything."

Numbuh 65.3 interjected, "But we can't know that for sure, and that's the problem."

"The _problem_ is that Father's got to be up to something," declared Numbuh 86 stubbornly, "We've been seein' more activity from the Delightfuls and the Teen Ninjas for a while, now. They must be preparin' for whatever his next evil plan is!"

With great exasperation, Numbuh 5 asked, "And what evil plan is that supposed to be?"

Numbuh 20,000 replied, "Well, we don't know _exactly_ , but we could bring in Sector V to consult-"

"Hold it righ' there!" interrupted Numbuh 5 sharply with a chopping motion of her hand, "The minute you drag Sector V into this, Numbuh 1 is gonna spout off some cuckoo conspiracy theory, and you _know_ it."

Scratching at his chin, Numbuh 65.3 pointedly said, "But Sector V _are_ the experts when it comes to Father and the Delightful Children."

"I think you're forgetting," responded Numbuh 5 darkly, "That Sector V is _my_ old sector! I know Father and them Delightfuls as well as they do, and what I know tells me that it's better for the Kids Next Door to stay outta Father's way if he's stayin' outta ours."

Crossly, Numbuh 86 shouted, "But ye can't know that he's not plannin' anything!"

"Okay, look," Numbuh 5 took her feet off the table and slammed her hands down on its rubber surface, "I _do_ know that he ain't planning anything, so we ain't gonna do something stupid and push him into attacking the Kids Next Door again. We shoulda learned our lesson from the scavenger hunt and the Second Siege o' Moonbase." She paused and took a deep breath, then exhaled. Numbuh 5 continued speaking, but at an almost whisper-quiet volume, "I have inside information from a _black ops reconnaissance mission_. The Teenz an' Delightfuls have gotten busier, but they been acting on their own. Father ain't been givin' them orders. Right now he's moping around in his mansion all day eating ice cream in an ugly robe, _not_ planning to destroy the Kids Next Door. We don't know what's got him in a funk, but it don't really matter so long as it keeps him preoccupied."

Most of them seemed satisfied by this. Evidently, Numbuh 86 was not, as she put her hands on her hips and asked, "Which reconnaissance mission did ye get this information from?"

* * *

 _Abby was laughing with Maurice, who was sitting at her kitchen table. He'd come over to hang out with Cree, but Mrs. Lincoln had grounded the teenager in her room after she'd wrecked her bike on the way home from school (the Kids Next Door genuinely had nothing to do with it). This left him able to relax and chat with the younger Lincoln sister for a while._

 _"No, really," chuckled the boy, "That's what they said."_

 _"Oh, c'mon!" Abby swatted him playfully, "As if."_

 _Maurice nodded, replying, "One hundred percent true. I swear it, Supreme Leader, sir!"_

 _"Hey, Numbuh 5 ain't on the clock right now."_

 _"The Supreme Leader is always on the clock," said Maurice in response, "So, really, what's this about?"_

 _The girl's expression faltered before it turned serious, and she asked, "Why've the Teenz been so busy lately, Maurice?"_

 _Maurice answered, "It's nothing serious. Father's been giving us more leeway, not really monitoring what we're doing anymore. The recent spike in activity is the Steve deciding to take advantage of the loose leash."_

 _"Hm. Well, why's Father losing interest?"_

 _"That, I'm not sure about. He hasn't shared any new plans with us, if he has any. Your old sector leader might have a better idea what's going on inside the Delightful Mansion."_

 ** _-.- -. -.._**

 _Numbuh 1 slammed an empty glass of soda on the counter and ranted, "It was the_ worst _way to spend a Saturday_ ever _! I could have been running maintenance on the treehouse or at the KND Museum or working on a project… But instead, I get dragged down the lane to go to a stupid family reunion! All day! I thought that at least something interesting might happen, that Father might try to unleash giant termites on our treehouse or I'd find delightfulization chambers being mass-produced in the basement or-"_

 _She interrupted coolly, "Numbuh 1, baby, it's Numbuh 5's day off. Can we get to the point?"_

 _"Oh, sir, yes sir!" the boy saluted._

 _Numbuh 5 protested, "We've known each other forever, you don't have to- oh, never mind. Just go on."_

 _She waved the bartender over and ordered two more sodas as her old sector leader continued, "Anyway, I thought that Father would try something,_ anything _\- but nothing ever happened. I couldn't find a single hint at an evil scheme in the entire manor - just loads and loads of ice cream containers and that hideous yellow bathrobe I told you about. It was boring. I brought all that 2x4 weaponry for nothing! The most exciting part all day was when the Delightfuls tried to pick a fight, but then Father grounded them."_

 _Numbuh 5 stopped sipping at her grape soda and raised an eyebrow, "Since when do the Delightful Children get grounded?"_

 _"Since yesterday, apparently," responded Numbuh 1 quickly. He shifted in his seat and went back to rambling, "Speaking of yesterday - do you have any idea how long an adult can go on and on about nothing but_ sousaphones _? It must have been like forty minutes! I almost felt sorry for 'dear Uncle Ben'..."_

* * *

"Well?" asked Numbuh 86, "What was the name of the mission?"

Numbuh 5 crossed her arms and answered reprimandingly, "It was a _black ops_ reconnaissance mission. That means the Supreme Leader is the only one who needs to know anything. You're lucky she told you this much. Now, the Kids Next Door ain't provoking Father when the guy's leavin' us alone for once. End of story."

They seemed content enough with her decision after receiving something of an explanation. And on the bright side, that entire debate had managed to take up almost half of the meeting time. Now she just had to suffer through the rest of it.

* * *

Late that afternoon, Numbuh 5 was in the Supreme Leader's office. It was hers now, but she'd chosen to keep it as sparsely furnished as Numbuh 362 had. There were two neat stacks of paper on either side of her desk and a small folder of documents in front of her. She stamped one in green and put it to her right. Another she crossed off in red and set to her left. According to the clock, it was almost time for her to leave and go home. All she had left to do was to finish going through a few more mission requests waiting on her approval.

It was always while performing this mundane daily task that she missed being out in the field the most. With her decommissioning coming up in a week's time, that heartache was worse than ever. She began to daydream of some of her favorite missions with Sector V, and that train of thought quickly led her to wish desperately for one, last, big mission with her best friends on Earth before her time was up. She closed her eyes.

 _Knock knock._

She looked up at the door, surprised that she had a visitor, and called out, "It's open! Come in!"

The metal door opened and in walked Numbuh 1. Unexpected, but not unwelcome.

He greeted her with a salute, "Numbuh 5, sir."

"At ease," she responded, a smile tugging at her lips as she set down her pen, "What's up, Numbuh 1?"

The boy remained tense as he met her eyes over his sunglasses and replied humorlessly, "This is very important, Numbuh 5. It's been in the works for a long time, and now… Well, there's a secret you have to be told - and, related to it, a big favor I have to ask."

She knew that tone of voice was never a joke. Numbuh 5 sat up straighter and leaned her elbows on her desk, her fingers locking together under her chin. She adopted a serious expression and switched to all-business mode. The Supreme Leader asked, "Alright, Numbuh 5's listening. What is it?"

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I'm posting this chapter a day early because I'm going to Niagara Falls with my family tomorrow, and I won't be able to get to a computer. Next week's chapter should still be on Saturday.

Please leave your thoughts in a review!


	7. Ch 6: This Ain't a Scene

**Chapter 6: This Ain't a Scene**

"This… is certainly unexpected," stated Nigel wryly as he straightened the collar of his shirt. He fixed his glasses and asked with a self-satisfied smirk, "What do you think, Numbuh 2?"

Hoagie waved away some of the smoke in the air and grinned as he responded, "Well, Cree was definitely right. I'm surprised they haven't ripped each other's heads off."

Tommy stepped forward and tentatively said, "H… Hoagie? Numbuh 2?"

The elder Gilligan relaxed his posture and replied with a knowing snigger, "Hey, Tommy. How's the Tommymobile?"

Tommy gasped and squealed enthusiastically, "Holy crap, it worked! You remember!" He leaped in and latched onto Hoagie's waist

Out of nowhere, Wally rushed forward and scooped Joey up into an affectionate headlock. He ruffled his younger brother's hair and declared teasingly, "Joey, ya little runt! I can't believe ya joined the Kids Next Door! Say, are ya usin' my old room in the treehouse?"

"Ow!" exclaimed Joey protestingly as he shoved his brother's arms away with a smile on his face and small tears in his eyes, "S-stop that, Wally- I mean... Numbuh 4!" He kicked futilely as his brother refused to let go, but there wasn't any real effort on the part of either of them.

Kuki pushed her hair out of her face and then ran toward Mushi with her arms open and a wide grin gracing her lips. Mushi raised a hand in a stopping motion, and Kuki's shoes squeaked to a stop on the grass just a few feet away. The younger girl crossed her arms and glared, and the older girl's chin fell to her chest with disappointment written all over her expression. Then, Mushi's glower changed to a look of pity, and without any warning at all she tackled her older sister in a flying hug that sent them both rolling on the ground. They laughed together as they fell down next to each other.

The celebratory mood was a welcome change of pace, but unfortunately it was one that had to be cut short to make room for business.

Nigel cleared his throat and said, "Alright, team - define our objectives."

Kuki sat up and saluted with a smile still in place, answering brightly, "Saving Numbuh 5 and Cree."

Hoagie replied matter-of-factly, "Freeing the Moonbase."

With a fist to his palm and an angry scowl, Wally added, "Kickin' some Executive butt!"

"Hm," Nigel paced as he considered the situation. He remarked, "We have quite the to-do list on our hands, don't we? Here's the plan," The bald boy stopped and looked at the rotunda rocket parked under the shade of the trees as he ordered, "Numbuh 3, retrieve Cree's gum from that windshield!" He turned and faced Hoagie and Tommy before he added, "Numbuh 2 and Tommy, see what you can do to establish contact with Moonbase."

"Aye, aye, captain," saluted Hoagie casually. He and Tommy sat down with Tommy's lunchbox and Game Boy between them.

Nigel addressed the remaining children, "Mushi, Numbuh 4, and Numbuh 4.4…"

Joey snapped into a salute and enthusiastically responded, "Sir, yes _sir_!"

Mushi elbowed him.

Wally stood silently, awaiting their orders.

Finally, Nigel spoke with more grave seriousness than his next words probably deserved, "Get all the luggage on board the ship. We have a lot of traveling to do."

Joey felt a little disappointed by the mundaneness of his task, but he was still eager to help and was the first of the three to start dragging bags to the vehicle's ladder. While he, his brother, and Mushi were climbing up with the first load of luggage, Kuki appeared in the doorway of the ship. She looked down and, upon seeing them, jumped. She flipped over their heads and landed a few feet away in the grass, safely avoiding all three of them on the ladder.

Kuki ran breezily to where Nigel still stood, holding between her thumb and index fingers a cold, rubbery piece of gum with tooth marks still visible in its pliable, purple-gray surface. As disgusting as the chewed candy was, she didn't seem bothered by it.

She exclaimed cheerily, "I got it!"

"Perfect!" replied Nigel as he held out his hand.

Kuki dropped the piece of gum into his palm and then stood there expectantly.

"Thank you, Numbuh 3."

"You're welcome!" exclaimed the optimistic girl energetically.

Without any trepidation, Nigel turned and faced the only member of their group whom he had not addressed since Sector V's recommissioning.

In a diplomatically neutral tone, he asked, "Do you still have the KNDNA tracker, Father?"

The adult reached into a side pocket of his satchel and pulled out the calculator-like machine, answering grouchily, "I wish you brats would stop calling me that, but yes, it's right here."

He tossed the 2x4 device to Nigel, who caught it by the plastic cup taped to its top. With his other hand, the boy dumped Cree's chewed wad of gum into the receiver. The tracker began beeping slowly and regularly.

Nigel grinned, "Brilliant."

Father grumbled almost nostalgically, "Hmph, Cree was always a smart one."

Wally, Joey, and Mushi came over, Wally speaking for them, "We got the luggage on board, Numbuh 1. Now what?"

"Now," Nigel smirked and proudly held up the KNDNA tracker to the others, "We find out where the Executives are holding the people they've kidnapped. While we're in the air, Numbuh 2 and Tommy can continue working on contacting Global Command. The rest of us will pool our knowledge and resources to figure out how we'll take down the Executives."

There were murmurs of agreement all around.

It was then that Father shrugged the satchel off his shoulders and threw the bag down at the feet of the now recommissioned teens. The recommissioning module remained in his hands.

The adult spoke, "There's money and a number of things you might find helpful in that bag. It's yours now. This is as far as I go."

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, Tommy leaped to his feet and shouted with outrage, "You're leaving?!"

"But- But…!" protested Joey with alarm.

Mushi exclaimed venomously, "You _jerk_! What kind of help are you if you're running away before we even get started, huh?!"

"I _knew_ we shouldn't have trusted you!" declared Tommy angrily.

"Coward!" spat Mushi bitterly.

"Why now?" pleaded Joey with desperation.

Father simply stood there silently, stoically taking the children's verbal assaults.

"Never should have-"

"Good-for-nothing-"

"Please don't-"

" _That's enough!_ " barked Nigel reprimandingly.

Tommy, Mushi, and Joey stopped and looked at the recommissioned Sector V. Hoagie and Kuki wore sympathetic expressions while Nigel and Wally wore disapproving ones.

Although his next words were directed at the children, Nigel warily looked Father in the eyes as he stated, "If he wants to go, he can go. He has his reasons, and they're nothing we have the right to judge him for."

Joey asked, "But why-"

Wally cut him off, saying, "Joey, leave it alone, would ya?"

Tommy exclaimed frustratedly, "How can you take his side?!"

Hoagie replied tiredly, "Tommy, stop it. There are things you don't understand."

Mushi opened her mouth to speak.

Uncharacteristically caustic, Kuki darkly declared, "Mushi, shut up."

The younger Sanban clammed up in surprise if nothing else.

"... Thank you," said Father quietly to the teenaged Sector V, "For letting me go like this."

Hoagie crossed his arms and responded snappily, "We're not doing it for you."

"I know... I wouldn't expect you to."

Kuki grimly remarked, "Just remember your promises."

Wally tacked on with a growl, "Or else."

"Hmph," Father closed his eyes and chuckled, "Empty threats, kids. Empty threats. By the way, I'm keeping this."

He held up the recommissioning module.

"But what if we need it?" protested Joey.

"You know where to find me," replied Father as he turned and began walking away with the module in hand.

Tommy exclaimed, "No, we don't!"

The adult called back, "Someone does."

Soon, he was out of view beyond the foliage at the edge of the clearing.

After a moment, Tommy asked with confusion, "... Why did you do that? Why'd you guys just let Father go? And with the recommissioning module?"

Nigel answered vaguely, "There are some missions more important than saving the world."

* * *

With her bright, orange backpack hanging loosely off one shoulder and her cell phone caught between her other shoulder and her chin, Fanny Fulbright shook several unruly, red curls of hair away from her eyes as she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a Rainbow Monkey keychain. A number of shiny, pastel-colored trinkets jingled on its silver ring as she picked out one of four keys. She stood on the front doorstep of a well-cared-for upper-middle class home with a slightly unkempt lawn - the house she'd lived in since she was in kindergarten, not that she remembered much of her childhood.

"No, I swear that's what he said, lass. Really!" giggled the teenage girl, "I think he thinks I'm cute!"

Fanny was wearing her usual outfit, the one everyone at school associated with her: Medium-cut leather boots with one-inch heels, a lemon-colored miniskirt, a plain, white tank-top, and her favorite, forest-green windbreaker jacket. She might have picked up a feminine dress sense, but no one who knew her would ever peg Fanny Fulbright as a girly-girl. For one thing, she never wore makeup, and for another, she was school-famous for knocking out Wallabee Beatles with a dodgeball in gym class - twice.

Somewhat notoriously, Fanny and her friends were boy-crazy and flirtatious, but even more notoriously, Fanny was tough as nails and not someone you crossed if you were smart, especially considering her father's powerful influence in town.

"Oh, stop it, would ye?" exclaimed Fanny into her phone exasperatedly, "You're worse than Maddie!"

She stuck her house key into the lock of the front door and turned it. Then, she removed it and pushed on the handle to let herself in. The door swung open without a squeak, and Fanny stepped inside the entrance hall. Quietly, she shut the door behind her and relocked it, mm-hming to whatever her friend was saying on the phone.

Distracted, Fanny stepped forward and tripped on a pair of dirty, boy's sneakers.

She crashed to the floor, landing first on her forearm and next on the bony part of her hips, her knees rubbing painfully on the hardwood planks. Her phone went flying, landing on the carpet in the living room to the left.

"Agh!" shouted Fanny more in shrill frustration than in pain, " _Paddy_ , ye little imp, stop leavin' your bloody shoes wherever ye please! We have a shoe rack for a reason, y'know!"

A distant, typically teenage "Whatever," was yelled back in response.

Fanny growled as she picked herself up off the ground. She straightened her skirt and shoved her keys back into the pocket of her jacket. Thoughtlessly, she kicked off her boots and threw them haphazardly at the bottom of the shoe rack next to the door. Then, she grabbed her fallen backpack and tossed it over the well-loved couch a few yards away.

With a grunt of dissatisfaction, Fanny plucked her phone off the ground and plopped herself onto the far left side of the couch.

"Yeah, I'm still here. It's just my _stupid_ little brother bein' a nuisance," she grumbled as she picked up the remote from the coffee table and turned on the television. It started playing Spongebob, and with a huff she started channel-surfing.

"..."

"Hm? What was that?" Fanny listened to her friend on the phone more carefully before replying, "Oh, it was Paddy. Shaunie's at some sort of early summer camp. Daddy said he dropped him off a few days ago."

"..."

"I don't know. I think it was space camp?"

"..."

"Mm-hm… Mm-hm…," Fanny mumbled vague responses as she flipped through several television channels. Then, suddenly, her eyes widened in happy surprise and she leaned back comfortably against the cushions of the couch. She said to her friend on the phone, "Oh, lass, I've got to go now. There's a Doctor Time-Space marathon on!"

"..."

"What do ye mean what do I see in the show?" exclaimed Fanny, offended, "It's quality TV!"

"..."

"Eh," mumbled the red-haired girl offhandedly, "I think a friend of mine introduced it to me at Gallagher Elementary? No, wait, she didn't go there. I did, but she went to a different school. It's been so long, I can't even remember her name anymore."

"..."

"Ha, I'll see ya tomorrow, Lizzie."

Finally, Fanny hung up on the call and sat back to enjoy her favorite television series for a while before she had to start on her homework.

* * *

 _"This is very important, Numbuh 5. It's been in the works for a long time, and now… Well, there's a secret you have to be told - and, related to it, a big favor I have to ask."_

 _She knew that tone of voice was never a joke. Numbuh five sat up straighter and leaned her elbows on her desk, her fingers locking together under her chin. She adopted a serious expression and switched to all-business mode. The Supreme Leader asked, "Alright, Numbuh 5's listening. What is it?"_

 **KND**

Numbuh 1 felt anxious, but he was doing his best to present a calm, collected face to Numbuh 5. It was vital that he got authorization for what he was going to ask of her.

He spoke without hesitation, "Let me start at the beginning… Or at least, the beginning as I know it. During the events of Operation Z.E.R.O, Numbuh 0 sought help from an unlikely place - Father and the Delightful Children. The adults distracted Grandfather while the Delightfuls and I escaped to Moonbase."

"Mm-hm," Numbuh 5 nodded, interjecting, "This was all in the report, Numbuh 1."

"Not all of it," responded her old sector leader, "When Numbuh 362 debriefed me, she instructed me to leave something out of the report. A very important discovery, but one that would not be missed if glossed over… Because you see, it was not the Delightful Children who accompanied me to the moon. Or rather, not the Delightful Children as the Kids Next Door knows them now."

With a raised eyebrow, the Supreme Leader asked, "Numbuh 1, baby, what in the name o' ice cream is that supposed to mean?"

"The recommissioning module was used three times that day, Numbuh 5, not two," replied Numbuh 1 grimly, "First when Father used it on Grandfather, second when I used it on my dad... And third when Numbuh 0 used it on the Delightfuls. What happened that third time… Those five went from our worst enemies from down the lane to the long-lost members of the legendary Sector Z."

"You can't mean…" gasped Numbuh 5, stunned by what Numbuh 1 was revealing about some of the Kids Next Door's most hated enemies.

The bald boy affirmed again, "Yes. The Delightful Children from Down the Lane are the lost members of Sector Z."

He fell silent, waiting for Numbuh 5 to process the information and respond.

Numbuh 5's thoughts were whirling. Once she accepted the startling truth that had been presented to her, a million questions began rattling around in her head. She desperately wanted to ask them all; however, she reigned in her curiosity, knowing that Numbuh 1 still had more to say. She also wanted to hit him for keeping so huge a revelation from her not only when she was his teammate but also when she was his commanding officer - but that would be unprofessional. In the end, she chose to respond as the Supreme Leader of the Kids Next Door should: calmly, confidently, and with purpose.

With a grave expression turning down the corners of her mouth, she said, "Okay. You gotta have a reason for finally saying something 'bout this now."

"I do," nodded Numbuh 1, glancing aside and tugging nervously at the collar of his turtleneck sweater, "And it's more sentimental than anything else… but we'll get to it when I ask you for that favor. Before that, there's still much more you need to know."

Numbuh 5 also nodded, replying, "Alright, baby. Go on."

Rehearsedly, Numbuh 1 explained, "Sector Z was transformed when Father's first delightfulization chamber blew a fuse. The chamber was destroyed, but it created five perfectly, irreversibly 'delightful' children. During the short time that I knew them, Sector Z said they knew their condition was permanent," he paused and took a breath before continuing with less solemnity and more determination, "But I never believed that they could be beyond help. I've been doing research in my spare time, with Numbuh 101 and Numbuh 74.239: two separate projects - one trying to piece together Sector Z and the Delightful Children's history, the other trying to find a cure for them."

He stopped and stared at the blank wall, taking another moment to gather his thoughts. Numbuh 5 tensed and clenched her fingers together tightly in anticipation. She hardly dared to blink or breathe.

Without any grand gestures or presumptive presentation, Numbuh 1 plainly stated, "We think we have it. A way to free Sector Z of delightfulization at last."

In that single, brief statement, there was so much left unsaid.

"… So now," said Numbuh 5 with the sharp prescience expected of a Supreme Leader, "You wanna try it. You're gonna ask Numbuh 5 to authorize a mission to capture the Delightful Children."

"Yes, indeed," acknowledged her old sector leader with a faintly nostalgic smile, "You always did have foresight."

Sighing wearily, Numbuh 5 replied with gentle prodding, "Numbuh 1… Do you know- oh, of course you know, you did the research with _Numbuh 101_ … But do you _understand_ that Sector Z been lost for… a _very_ long time? The Kids Next Door ain't getting them back... They'll be decommissioned after they been cured."

Numbuh 1 grimaced with an air of resigned acceptance, "Yes, they will. But there's no need to worry about crossing that bridge when we come to it… Decommissioning _is_ the cure for Sector Z's condition."

In her head, the gears began turning at breakneck speed. _Ohhh, baby_ , thought the Supreme Leader apprehensively, _Numbuh 1, you is_ crazy.

Aloud, Numbuh 5 said, "Just so we're clear… go over what this favor is."

"You haven't guessed its entirety yet," responded Numbuh 1 mysteriously, "The first part of the favor is that I want you to approve Sector V for an off-the-books operation to decommission the Delightful Children... The second is that I want you to join it."

She exclaimed, " _Join it?!_ You're asking Numbuh 5 to _join_ your _insane, suicidal mission_ to kidnap the Delightfuls, haul their brainwashed butts _up to Moonbase_ , and decommission 'em without nobody else noticing? And a _week_ before her thirteenth birthday?"

"Yes, yes I am," nodded Numbuh 1.

Numbuh 5 remained silent, her expression unreadable beneath the shadow cast by the rim of her hat.

A sly smirk began to form on his face as he continued, "No backup and no records. We infiltrate the heart of the Delightful Mansion, and if we're caught there is no rescue. We face not only our enemies, but also the strength of our own walls. Long odds, great risks, and treason, all to prove an untested theory for the sake of old heroes who deserve to rest. So, what do you say, Numbuh 5? One last impossible mission before the end?"

One last mission.

With her old team.

To face the Delightful Children for the last time.

Oh, how Numbuh 5 wanted it. _Be careful what you wish for._

She had a responsibility to the Kids Next Door, and she held that responsibility in high regard - but what Numbuh 1 was offering her… It was tempting. _One last mission_. She mentally weighed all the pros and cons, all the risks and the rewards. It was a very dangerous mission, but there was a good reason behind it. She hesitated. If Numbuh 362 were still Supreme Leader, would she have authorized it? Maybe. Would she have joined it? Now, that wasn't a fair question to ask.

Numbuh 5 _knew_ that she would give Numbuh 1 his mission. So… _why not_ join him?

With conviction in her eyes, she met her old sector leader's gaze and nodded, "You got your mission. And Numbuh 5 is in."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** This is probably going to be the last regularly scheduled chapter. It's just a few weeks until school starts, and I'm having trouble keeping up with weekly updates already. From now on I'll be posting new chapters whenever I can, but they're going to be really irregular. :( I'm sorry!


	8. Ch 7: Bleed Out for You

**Chapter 7: Bleed Out for You**

It was forty minutes after Father's departure that the ship finally took off. What took so long, you ask?

Well, the group had spent most of that time repairing what they could of their vehicle's weapons systems - just in case. Tommy was very proud to say that they had the laser back online, and Mushi claimed credit for fixing two cobweb-laden projectile launchers: one armed with smoke bombs and the other sadly empty of ammunition. While the two younger children were busy working on the ship's exterior, Hoagie had been tinkering with the piloting consoles inside the hub of the vehicle. He used several tools and devices "borrowed" from his younger brother to connect the rocket's rudimentary autopilot program with the KNDNA tracker and Tommy's Game Boy and create a makeshift navigation system that would self-adjust, and therefore not have to be constantly monitored.

While the gadgeteers were busy doing what they did best, Nigel, Kuki, Wally, and Joey had taken advantage of the down time to go on a supply run in the city. They had left half an hour ago, and they returned to the clearing in the park just as Hoagie and Tommy were about to return to the task of trying to contact the Kids Next Door Moonbase (or barring that, at least get an idea of what condition they were in).

Wally was loaded with bulky, heavy-looking shopping bags that the blond boy could hardly see around as he hobbled over to the ship. Nigel, Kuki, and Joey were wheeling a shopping cart each, all of whose contents were hidden beneath white, plastic tarps. The wheels of the carts squeaked and wobbled as they were rolled through the grass.

"Ugh," complained Wally tiredly as he set down his bags next to the ladder, "These cruddy groceries are heavy!"

As he walked by pushing a shopping cart, Nigel replied without sympathy, "We told you to take a cart."

"Shut up!" groaned Wally in frustrated response as he flopped back onto the grass, exhausted. The soft, cool, sweet-smelling earth and greenery was a welcome place to rest. Wally motioned at the shopping bags next to him and moaned, "Joey, could ya help move these into the ship?"

Feeling sorry for his older brother and being a helpful person in general, Joey wandered over and agreed, "Sure thing, Wa- Numbuh 4."

The younger Beetles picked up a bag and began climbing up the rocket's ladder with it in hand. After a moment more of lazing about, Wally sat up with a grumble of complaint directed at no one in particular, grabbed two bags, and joined Joey in loading the ship.

While they were busy, Tommy curiously circled the trio of shopping carts in the middle of the clearing. Nigel and Kuki seemed content to wait for him to ask rather than take the initiative to unveil the mystery themselves.

Puzzledly, Tommy inquired, "What's under the tarps?"

Kuki answered by excitedly rushing by the shopping carts, yanking off each tarp as she passed and, upon reaching the third cart, gleefully exclaiming, "Rocket fuel!"

Within each and every one of the carts were dozens and dozens of red gas canisters with ominous, black skulls spray-painted over their sides.

"Where in this stupid city did you get _that_ much rocket fuel?" questioned Mushi with a raised eyebrow.

Smirking smugly, Nigel answered, "We raided a mini mart. More specifically, a Teen Ninja compound _beneath_ a mini mart. It was completely abandoned. Not one of their vehicles down there was still operational, but there was _plenty_ of fuel for them."

Tommy inquired with concern, "Are you sure it'll work for our ship?"

Hoagie was the one who answered, "I wouldn't bring the stuff _near_ a 2x4 vehicle, but it's _exactly_ what the Delightful Manor's escape pods run on. Remember, Father was the one who developed the Teenz' tech for them when they first started out. Sure, they've probably upgraded a few things over the years, but the technology still has its roots. Like a technolo- _tree_! Ahahaha!"

Mushi slapped her forehead and groaned, "He's worse than Tommy. Where's Cree when we need her?"

Nigel took one of the gas canisters out of the cart nearest to him. He could hear and feel the dense liquid inside the container sloshing back and forth. Determinedly, Nigel replied to Mushi, "Somewhere out west. The KNDNA tracker will be able to give us a more specific location the closer we get, but we're not getting any closer by standing around here. Everybody, start refueling the ship!" He cleared his throat and then lightly added, "We really should go before that store clerk comes after us for stealing the shopping carts."

* * *

The engines of the rocket soon rumbled to life, vibrations gently thrumming from the hot core of the thrusters to the cool surface of the windows. Smoke billowed out from underneath the ship, clouding the air of the park clearing in a man-made haze.

4...

3…

2…

1…

 _Vrooooomm!_

With a low roar like rolling thunder, the vehicle blasted off. Up past the trees, past the skyscrapers, past the clouds, it was but the afterimage of a dot in the wild, blue yonder in just a few moments.

The only things left behind in the grassy clearing were three empty, overturned shopping carts.

Up above the wispy tops of the clouds, the rotunda rocket zoomed westward. It left the city of Cincinnati just as the afternoon rush hour was beginning. Inside the ship, children and teenagers were unbuckling their seat belts and moving to gather in the center of the hub. The seven members of the group sat in an oval shape, with Sector V on one side and their younger siblings on the other. It was almost like a scene at a sleepover.

"So you see," explained the elder Gilligan to his younger brother, "The outside of the ship is shaped like a bullet, and the inside is shaped like a sphere. The arches that we see up there are a false ceiling - there's more space on the other side, where the gyroscope is."

Tommy complained, "Hoagie, I know that already."

"Oh, well, what about our engines? The idea behind the thrusters is the same as in any 2x4 airship, but the different fuel source means-"

Mushi grouchily snapped, "Shut it, Numbuh 2."

"Geez, okay," replied Hoagie with a slightly offended tone, "I'm just trying to make conversation. There's nothing else to do while our spy program runs. It's going to be hours before we get a full analysis of Moonbase."

Nigel broke in with a touch of aggravation in his tone of voice, "Speaking of which… Tommy, _why_ do you have backdoor access to the Kids Next Door mainframe?"

The younger Gilligan nervously replied, "Eheh… Um… Aren't you glad that I do?"

Sector V's leader responded with a very flat look of disapproval.

Tommy clapped his hands together and hurriedly changed the subject, "So, what's our game plan?"

Grudgingly, Nigel allowed the previous topic of conversation to slide by. He answered, "Well, as you already know, our first definite objective is to rescue Cree and Numbuh 5 from the clutches of the Executives - details will have to wait until we get an idea of what we're dealing with. Second is to free Kids Next Door Global Command from the Moonbase. If we can't lift the lockdown remotely, we may have to find a way to break open the base and transport everyone back down to Earth - and _that_ is something we would certainly require help with."

Joey protested, "But… you're Sector V! You guys _are_ the help. You were the best! If you can't do it, then who can?"

"You don't think we did everything by ourselves, do you?" replied Nigel wryly, "We almost always had the full resources of the Kids Next Door behind us. It doesn't matter how good you are if you don't have the support you need. And you can't be too proud to ask for it." He blinked at the sudden realization of how parallel his words were to some deeply treasured advice he'd once received long ago, and he quietly thought to himself, _Deja vu..._

Skeptically, Mushi inquired, "Who the heck can we ask for help? Out of our two allies, one is captured and the other is a big, fat chicken. The Teenz are non-existent, and the KND is completely useless without their tech."

Wally cautiously put forward, "Mr. Boss is still around, ain't he?"

Kuki added, "And the candy pirates? Numbuh 5 always got Stickybeard to listen to her."

Nigel considered both suggestions, "Mr. Boss has better resources, but he also has little incentive to help us beyond the simple principle of 'enemy of my enemy'. Stickybeard would be much more likely to grant us aid, especially once we have Numbuh 5 back… and I seem to recall that the salty, old pirate has a space-worthy fleet."

Among the members of Sector V, there were murmurs and nods of agreement.

Tommy exclaimed, "Hold on a second! You want to work with one of the Kids Next Door's top enemies? I know there was a truce for a while there, but after you guys were decommissioned, things majorly broke down. The candy pirates are villains! And so is Mr. Boss!"

Mushi assented, "They're not the safest people to ask for help."

Joey suggested, "Maybe we could track down some other KND operatives instead?"

"I like that idea a lot better than going to Stickybeard," asserted Tommy, "And there's lots of Kids Next Door around. They haven't been turned into animals or senior citizombies, they're just stuck in their sectors wondering what the hell is going on!"

Hoagie argued, "As much as we'd rather work with the Kids Next Door, any resources they might have left could easily be compromised. No transport, no heavy artillery, and no secure bases. The Executives are controlling the KND mainframe - that means anything 2x4 with a computer chip is theirs. It's too dangerous to risk. And watch your language, Tommy."

Crossing his arms, Tommy huffed, "I don't like the idea of working with our enemies."

"If you were willing to work with Father and Cree to recommission us, I'm sure you can tolerate Stickybeard," retorted Nigel stubbornly, "And given that approaching him is our _backup_ plan, let's set this debate aside for now and hope that we can release Moonbase ourselves. Now, then, when we arrive at wherever the Executives have Cree..."

Petulantly, Tommy stood up and walked away from the circle, plopping himself down in one of the chairs furthest from Sector V. The others left him be as they continued discussing how they would handle getting Cree and Numbuh 5 safely out of wherever it was that the Executives were holding them. After a considerable amount of time, when Tommy was almost bored enough to give up his pouting and rejoin the circle, Mushi rose, walked over, and took the seat to his right.

Tommy grumbled, "What do you want, Mushi?"

"I want to tell you I think you're right."

He had to make a double-take at that. "What?" exclaimed Tommy incredulously, "You actually _agree_ with me?"

"I was on your side during that argument," the younger girl pointed out.

He huffed, "Yeah... Well, at least someone is. Joey's not going to hold out if his brother's on their side."

"I still don't agree with the way you treated Father and Cree when they were helping us," rebuked Mushi, "Trusting has-beens like them is one thing - trusting active villains is another."

Tommy defensively shot back, "Once a bad guy, always a bad guy."

"There's that stupid attitude again," scoffed Mushi, "Look, those two came looking for _our_ help. They needed _us_ more than we needed them. If we go asking Stickybeard or Mr. Boss for their help, it puts us at the disadvantage. _That's_ why I don't like it any more than you do."

His stubborn response was, "I just can't believe that Sector V would actually consider getting help from major villains when it's not the only option. It's going to bite us in the butt at some point."

She quietly said, "They might be legends, but if there's one thing Sector V is faulted for, it's being a little too quick to work with their enemies."

 _Beep beep beep._

All conversation ground to a halt as Hoagie approached the piloting consoles. He glanced down at the screens of the KNDNA tracker and Tommy's Game Boy, and after a moment of observation, he announced to everyone else, "Guys, we're here. Middle of nowhere in the Rocky Mountains… Go figure."

"Everyone, buckle up for landing," ordered Nigel sternly, "Numbuh 2, find us a secluded spot. Numbuh 3, you're the co-pilot."

"Aye aye, captain!"

* * *

Fanny Fulbright was slouched over her math homework, lazily bopping numbers into her calculator. She became startled when she heard the sound of the front door opening. The redhead turned around, peeking over the top of the living room couch. The person she saw was a welcome distraction from algebra.

"Daddy," smiled Fanny, "You're home early. Want to catch the game?"

"Huh?" Jeffery Fulbright, better known as Mr. Boss, mumbled inattentively, "Uh, sorry, sweetie, I can't watch hockey right now…"

"But-" Fanny protested.

"Daddy is really busy, darling. He has a lot of work to finish."

The man was very quickly out of sight, probably headed to his home office.

Fanny finished with concern straining her voice, "... But it's baseball season."

Between Fanny and her father, sports were their thing. All year long, whatever was being broadcast on ESPN, they would always take some time off a few days a week to sit and bond over the game of the season. Her friends didn't get it, and neither did her younger brothers for that matter, but to Fanny, it was a sacred tradition. She couldn't even remember when it had started, she just knew that the two of them, she and her dad, had always done it. For him to pass up the offer for the _fifth_ time in as many days, and for him to have forgotten what was being played that time of year… It set off a lot of warning bells in Fanny's head.

For over a week now, she had noticed him coming home either much earlier than usual or not coming home at all until late into the night. With him being an important businessman running his own company, it wasn't completely out of the ordinary for her dad to have a packed schedule, but Fanny couldn't remember ever seeing him so stressed. The days that he was home, he skipped dinner to keep working in his office. The days that he wasn't, every call went to voicemail.

It had gotten especially bad ever since the afternoon he had dropped Shaunie off at summer camp.

Fanny really wondered what could be bothering him so much…

 _Knock knock._

"Hm?" She was jolted out of her thoughts by someone at the door.

Stretching her arms over her head to loosen them up, Fanny walked to the front door. She unlocked it and, upon seeing Paddy's shoes in the way of opening it, kicked the sneakers to the side. Fanny pulled open the door.

Standing on the front porch were two men in dark glasses and nice suits. At first, she thought that they were simply a pair of very rude businessmen who had the nerve to come looking for a meeting with her father at his own house. But then…

"Well, what do you know? Look who answered the door, Jim."

The other man, presumably Jim, sneered, "It's her. Lucky us."

Faster than she could form a derisive response, one of them grabbed her by the shoulders with a forceful grip and yanked her outside. The other one slipped a canvas bag over her head in a single, fluid motion and tightened the cord around its opening (right over her neck) to the point that Fanny feared he was going to choke her with it. Instinct and common sense both kicked in at the same time, and she began to struggle.

"Ahh-!"

The sound of her heart beat loudly in her ears as she tried to scream and kick and claw at her kidnappers, only to be bludgeoned over the head by one of their elbows.

Just before she fell into the hazy abyss of unconsciousness, she felt herself being hauled over someone's shoulder and heard the sound of the first man's voice saying, "She's a feisty one for a civilian, eh?"

* * *

 _"No backup and no records. We infiltrate the heart of the Delightful Mansion, and if we're caught there is no rescue. We face not only our enemies, but also the strength of our own walls. Long odds, great risks, and treason, all to prove an untested theory for the sake of old heroes who deserve to rest. So, what do you say, Numbuh 5? One last impossible mission before the end?"_

 _..._

 _With conviction in her eyes, she met her old sector leader's gaze and nodded, "Numbuh 1, you got your mission. And Numbuh 5 is in."_

 **KND**

It was a cold and cloudy day in New York City. It was eight o'clock in the morning, eastern standard time. With her eyes tightly shut and her ears deaf to the world around her, Numbuh 5 gripped the edges of the well-sanded, oakwood podium from which she was about to set off a last-resort procedure that the Kids Next Door treated as the next-best thing to armageddon. She straightened her stance, swallowed the spit collecting in her mouth, and opened her eyes.

The sight of tens of thousands of children filling the stands of an eleventy-thousand seat stadium to near capacity greeted her, as did the roar of their chatter. As always, she felt humbled by the sheer size of the organization that she had the honor to serve. There was a trickle of guilt in her heart for the deception that she was about to play, but it was far outweighed by her determination to see her last field mission through to its end. If drawing on this contingency gave them a better shot at success, then so be it. Besides, it was always how she'd planned to choose her successor anyway.

Numbuh 5 held up her hand for silence.

The din dropped to but a whisper, and it became so quiet that you could hear the breeze blowing by.

"Kids Next Door," said the Supreme Leader into the microphone, her voice echoing out powerfully to every child in the stands, "Numbuh 5 called you all here today to make a very important announcement. She's sure y'all know that her thirteenth birthday is coming up in six days. Now, Numbuh 5 don't got nobody lined up as the next Supreme Leader. Nobody wants to take the job. So, today, it's gonna be decided who's next, and they ain't gonna get any say in it."

Next to her, Numbuh 86 stood rigid, staring unblinkingly straight ahead like the soldier she was. Numbuh 5 rested her hand on the Global Tactical Officer's shoulder.

"Tag, you're it."

Silence.

Then, in what couldn't have been more than thirty seconds' time, the stadium completely cleared itself out but for the two girls left on the stage. Such was the power of the I.T. contingency.

"M-m-m-me?" stuttered Numbuh 86 in terror, "Why is it always _me_?!"

Numbuh 5 hopped off the stage and began quickly backing away, smoothly replying, "Don't know, don't care. You got till noon, baby! No tag-backs!"

As she ran for the nearest exit, she began feeling bad for Numbuh 86; however, she was also certain that with her resourcefulness, the redhead would never be It when the clock struck twelve. And besides, according to Numbuh 1's plan, Numbuh 5 would be back to reclaim her title long before noon anyway. At least, she really hoped she would. If she wasn't… Well, if she wasn't, it'd be a good thing that the Kids Next Door would have a new Supreme Leader already lined up.

* * *

The clicks of Numbuh 5's shoes against the sturdy, wooden floor echoed as she arrived in the massive, open-air room of hangar bay 9. Only one ship remained in the entire space, and it was already running and ready to go. She could hear the sound of its engines impatiently waiting to blast off into the sky.

As she approached the vehicle from behind, she was struck by its familiarity. The scuffed, metallic, muddy green chassis; the bright red jets bolted down at the tail; the telltale welding marks that meant Numbuh 2 had already retrofitted the ship to his own brilliant designs. Sure, it wasn't the same ship that had been passed down to Numbuh 5's Sector V from her older sister's ( _that_ one had been destroyed in a salty explosion which had been the coup de grace of a particularly mad scheme of Numbuh 1's), but it had the same people in it, and that was what mattered to her.

Case in point, the chubby pilot waiting for her just inside the vehicle's starboard-side (and only) door.

"Hey, Numbuh 5," greeted Numbuh 2 as casually as if she'd never been gone from the team at all, "Ready to go out with a bang?"

Numbuh 5 chuckled and raised her hand for a fist-bump which was eagerly given by Sector V's 2x4 technology expert. Excitement shining in her eyes, she nodded, "Let's do it, baby. One last trip down the lane. Together."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** The plot is really rolling now, isn't it? ^^ I had a lot of fun with this chapter. Please review!

 **Edit:** The next chapter is going up tomorrow! **\- 9/09/2016**


	9. Ch 8: Bend and Break

**Chapter 8: Bend and Break**

With their ship hidden safely in the shadow of a tall overhang of rock, the group was free to leave and spy on the Executive compound.

Nigel and Hoagie both thought to grab a tracker-shielding umbrella to take with them. Wally was carrying the bag that Father had left behind. Kuki, who had scouted ahead to find the group a place from which to observe the facility, quickly discovered the perfect location and returned to lead the rest of them to it. Tommy, Mushi, and Joey occupied themselves by cleaning and checking what few 2x4 weapons Tommy had brought with him.

The teens and children stationed themselves within a cluster of bushes just behind the crest of a fairly impressive hill, obtaining both cover and a good view of their enemy's fortress below.

The main building was only a single story tall and very flat, but it was wide, and it undoubtedly contained any number of basements and sub-basements. There was no distinct perimeter around the compound and there were no guards were in sight. What the stronghold did have to its credit was a fairly impressive hangar bay attached to the side of the main building. It could easily hold dozens and dozens of 2x4 vehicles and still have room for a 747 jet or two. Cameras spanned the walls and roof of the facility every few yards.

Nigel lowered his binoculars and frowned as he contemplated the situation. He mumbled, "This could be a difficult one if we don't have the right equipment."

"What are we waiting for, then?" Hoagie asked with an optimistic grin, "Let's see what we've got in the goody bag."

Wally passed him the threadbare satchel.

Eagerly, the elder Gilligan unbuckled its front straps and pulled back the closed flap of the purse. The curiosity in his expression became more intense as he removed several 2x4 devices from the inside of the bag and, after a cursory assessment of each, set them down in the grass around him. He picked up a velvet box about the size of a deck of cards and, upon seeing the explosive M.A.R.B.L.E.s inside, very gingerly closed it and set it aside. Wally joined him in appraising the various weapons, picking up an old S.C.A.M.P.P. from the pile and slowly going over the flashlight-operated laser rifle with a critical eye. Ever inquisitive, Kuki grabbed a M.U.S.K.E.T. and toyed with the nozzle of the mustard gun. Tommy seemed quite interested in a S.P.I.C.E.R.

As he tested the trigger sensitivity of a near-mint condition S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R by dry-firing it at the air, Hoagie commented, "Neat! This is a decent collection. They haven't been used in a while, but someone knew how to take care of these weapons."

He passed the S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R. to Nigel, who pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose before gauging the condition of the magnet-powered paddler for himself. He rapped his knuckles against the smoothly sanded surface of the top plank and nodded, "Quite satisfactory, indeed. Although, the handle of this one appears to be damaged…"

There was a notable fissure running up the left side of the handle. As he looked at it, Nigel's stare went from disparaging to puzzled to shocked. He exclaimed in astonishment, "Wait a minute, this is _my_ S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R! I lost it during Operation E.N.D!"

Wally turned the S.C.A.M.P.P. he'd picked up over in his hands and added incredulously, "And this is _my_ S.C.A.M.P.P! It's the one I forgot after tha' time the Delightfuls' birthday cake fell outta the sky!"

Kuki cried out with her fair share of wide-eyed disbelief, "This is one of Numbuh 86's M.U.S.K.E.T.s! It even still has her numbuh carved into the handle."

As he examined the pepper chamber of the 2x4 gun in his hands, Tommy blurted out, "Hoagie, I think this is one of the S.P.I.C.E.R.s _you_ modified to work with a ghost pepper!"

"No way!" responded Hoagie, flabbergasted, "We lost all those ages ago! I swear, the last one disappeared when we blew up the Delightful Mansion with mashed potatoes."

Mushi sourly pulled a stray twig out of her hair as she grumbled, "Okay, they're your weapons. So what?"

With an exasperated sigh, Hoagie gave a dry smile and said, "Eheh… I guess Father kept all the stuff we left on his property way back when."

"That's a lot of stuff," acknowledged Kuki with a quirked eyebrow.

Wryly amused, Nigel stated, "He must have confiscated enough weaponry over the years to fill an entire garage. I'd wager that at least half of it came from our sector, too. Who knew he was the sentimental type?"

* * *

The children and teens managed to sneak inside through the open door of the hangar bay without any trouble at all. Thanks to the Executives' reliance on security cameras rather than human guards, they were able to walk right in as if they owned the place, unimpeded by anyone. Hoagie had chanced upon the perfect piece of equipment to enable their break-in - a device that looped the last two minutes of video footage recorded by any camera within its range. It was a years-old prototype, but its reach was extensive enough to render Sector V and their siblings virtually invisible to any person who could be bothered to look at the security cameras' footage.

"What kind of evil secret prison doesn't have any guards?" wondered Hoagie aloud as he trailed behind the rest of his friends. His footsteps on the cold, concrete floor echoed loudly in his ears.

In response, Tommy shrugged, "This one, apparently?"

Ahead of them, Mushi pulled open another yet another flimsy, unlocked door. It led to a storage room with very sterile, laboratory-like lighting. The room was primarily occupied by the skeleton of a half-dismantled S.C.A.M.P.E.R. Pieces of damaged 2x4 weaponry and armor lay strewn about on the ground in various states of disassembly. In the far corner there lay a nearly-intact Teenz bike and an open toolbox.

She shut the door and scoffed, "Nothing new here. It's just like all the others."

Wally had an idea, "Wouldn't we cover more ground if we split up?"

Nigel shot it down, "We are _not_ splitting up when we are neck-deep in enemy territory. Who knows what could be waiting around the corner for us?"

* * *

As it turned out, just around the corner of a T-intersection was an impressively shiny and modern glass door with the words " _Office of the Director_ " printed on the front. Unlike the rest of the facility, the room within was carpeted and had decor on the walls. There was a sleek computer monitor humming idly on the plexiglass desktop. It certainly seemed that luck was on their side that day, because the office happened to be as unoccupied as all three of the floors that they had already searched.

Everyone stopped to glance at each other. The ease with which they had stumbled upon such a potential goldmine of information seemed far too good to be true. The office, the chair, the desk, or the computer itself could very well be booby-trapped. It was distinctly possible that a dozen armed guards would swoop down on them the moment that someone touched the handle of the door. However, this was an opportunity the likes of which they could not walk away from.

Hoagie stepped forward, approaching the door. He tentatively volunteered, "Um, I'll copy what's on the hard drive in there, if you guys keep watch?"

Mumblings of vague agreement abounded.

As his friends and allies spread themselves out a ways down the hall, Hoagie turned to face the glass entrance. The teen wiped off his slightly sweaty hands on his trousers and nervously swallowed the spit collecting in his mouth. Slowly, carefully, he wrapped his hand around the dull, silver handle of the door and, when no alarms began blaring, pulled it open with a small sigh of relief. With slightly less caution, he stepped onto the very bland, thin carpet and hurriedly tiptoed around the desk. Hoagie gently pushed the leather swivel chair aside and kneeled down so that he was at eye level with the computer screen before him. There lay a keyboard and mouse in front of the monitor. He lightly tapped the spacebar of the keyboard to wake up the CPU from its idle screensaver.

The faint wisp of hope in his chest was brutally crushed when a password screen appeared with a blinking cursor overtop. Hoagie internally cursed. Then, his disappointment turned into determination, and he fell back to Plan B.

From his back pocket, he pulled out a slightly squished sandwich that had, of all things, something resembling a floppy disk embedded within the top loaf of bread. He reached in between the two slices of whole-grain wheat to pinch between his index and middle fingers the end of a short USB cord. With the casual skill of an experienced computer professional, Hoagie jammed the USB into a port on the computer tower hidden below the desk.

The previously regularly blinking lights of the CPU tower began flashing rapidly, and the whirring of the computer's cooling fans increased tenfold. In the span of roughly twenty seconds, Hoagie copied every byte of software and information from the Executive's machine onto the semi-edible 2x4 technology in his hands. Once the download was complete, he disconnected the USB cable and stood up.

Hoagie tucked the sandwich data drive back into his pocket, returned the chair to its place at the center of the desk, and left the office with a victorious grin.

He was met at the hallway intersection by Nigel and Wally.

Nigel inquired, "Did you get anything?"

He answered, "It's password protected. I copied the entire computer onto a data drive, though, so we can take our time getting into it once we get outta here."

"Very good," Nigel nodded, "We've found something quite interesting as well. A locked door which, according to the KNDNA tracker, is right between us and Cree. We may have discovered the entrance to the prison itself."

With a sigh of relief, Hoagie said, "Well, that's really great - We're running out of battery on the L.O.O.P.E.R."

 **-.- -. -..**

Looping Opponents' Optical Playback Evades Recordings

 **-.- -. -..**

That news startled Nigel. The bald boy inquired with a touch of worry in his voice, "How long do we have?"

Hoagie removed from his shirt pocket a device that resembled a barcode scanner with a soda can taped to its right side. He scratched his head as he analyzed the strange images displayed in blocky pixels on the gadget's screen. More than a little bewildered, he answered, "Um… A coconut log and one quarter of a can of orange soda? There used to be two-thirds of a pizza here."

Nigel stared at him blankly.

Wally interjected exasperatedly, "What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"I don't know," shrugged Hoagie helplessly, "This is one of Sector M's prototypes - their track record with user friendliness is notoriously bad. The operating system on this L.O.O.P.E.R. isn't the cleaned up version that went into the final product."

Nigel frowned, "Well, since we don't know how much time we have, let's hurry as much as we possibly can. Numbuh 2, keep an eye on that screen. We'll want to have some warning before we lose our cover."

* * *

Mushi was crouched over a keyhole located just above the handle of a very strong-looking steel door. She had a bobby pin in her left hand and a pocket knife in her right - both tools were currently jammed into the key slot as she tried to cheat the pins of the lock. Next to her, Tommy had his Game Boy hooked up to a half-dismantled keypad.

He impatiently tapped his foot and complained, "How long is this going to take?"

"Shut it, Tommy," snapped Mushi haughtily, "Unlike hacking some four-digit code, lock picking is an art."

 _Click_

The pigtailed girl straightened her posture and smirked. "We're in," she gloated.

Tommy grumbled, "And it only took you two minutes longer than me."

"I'm out of practice," scowled Mushi as she flipped her pocket knife shut and stuck the bobby pin back into her hair. She rolled her sleeves up and armed herself with a S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R. As a smirk curled up the corners of her mouth, the girl declared, "But this is going to be fun."

* * *

Cree Lincoln was lying on her back on a very thin, lumpy, and uncomfortable mattress. She stared up at the ceiling in the near pitch-black darkness of a small, windowless room. One of her arms was bent over her chest in a cast and a sling, and the other was handcuffed to the cold railing of the bed. An IV needle was taped to her inner elbow on the handcuffed arm. Around the knee of her right leg was a very stiff splint that was causing her all sorts of discomfort. Her left ankle was mummified with bandages.

In short, the young woman was injured. Injured, and very very bored. It was getting to the point where she started to think that she was hearing voices argue about whether computer hacking or lock picking was more difficult. Being the sole occupant of a dark recovery room did strange things to a person's mind.

 _Bam!_

She flinched when the door slammed open without any warning. Bright light from the hallway flooded the room and blinded her. Cree instinctively tried to shade her eyes with her one good arm, but with the handcuffs, it was impossible for her to reach that far. She only wound up worsening the chafing around her wrist.

"Freeze, you crooked adults!" shouted a familiar, aggravating voice with an English accent.

As her eyes adjusted to the light, Cree squinted at the intruders. She counted seven of them - and three were particularly short.

"Um, Numbuh 1?" questioned the figure of Hoagie Gilligan, "I don't see any adults. Or anyone. It's really dark in here."

She heard the voice of Kuki Sanban exclaim, "I found a light switch!"

And then, suddenly, Cree was further assaulted by glaring lights, this time from the ceiling. She closed her eyes and scowled at the sudden onslaught.

"Huh - Oh, Cree!" said the young, soft-spoken voice of Joey Beetles, "Are you okay?"

Blinking rapidly as her pupils contracted and the fuzzy figures around the foot of her bed sharpened into focus, Cree complained, "Joey? …Other brats? Hmph, it's about time you losers got here."

Tommy crossed his arms and pointed out with a huff, "Hey, _we're_ the ones rescuing _you_! Shouldn't you be more grateful?"

And it was then that she was reminded of how badly she had failed. Cree scowled darkly at the teens and children who had risked so much to save her. However, it was her allies with whom she was upset - the one person she blamed was herself. Her plan had fallen completely apart, and now she had to break the news to her small audience.

 _I'm sorry, Abigail._

It was Nigel Uno who asked the big question, "Cree, where are all the other captives?"

With a sigh, she grumbled, "There aren't any other captives. Not here, at least - this isn't the main facility. It's some kind of temporary holding compound. I screwed up when I got hurt - they won't move me for _days_ now."

Cree honestly had little idea what to expect as a reaction from the others. Frustration? Disappointment? Anger? They all seemed possible. She had even even less of an inkling as to what they would do now. They could choose to leave her behind and track her down again once the Executives finally had her moved. They could simply abandon her to her captors and move onto another plan for dealing with their enemies. She would accept either fate with grace and dignity.

 _Or maybe_ , thought Cree jokingly in her despair, _They'll break me out of here and we'll fly off into the night to fight another day. It's nighttime, isn't it? Might be afternoon… How long have I been here? The doctor knocked me out to set my arm._

"Well… we can't just let you stay here," said Kuki with concern.

"Yeah," nodded Wally determinedly.

Nigel confidently agreed, "Quite right."

"Wait wait wait…" Cree could hardly believe her ears, "You're breaking me out of here?"

Mushi flatly deadpanned, "Duh."

Tommy grudgingly sighed, "You helped us. We owe you."

Hoagie cracked a joke, "What else are friends for if not breaking you out of secret underground bases?"

This display of loyalty and decency was one that she had not expected. It was a kindness that she didn't think she deserved. Generosity that she thought had been cleaved from the world. It had been a long time since Cree had been part of a team that she could believe genuinely cared about her... But then again, it had been a long time since Cree had worked with the Kids Next Door - and she knew that whether these people were official operatives or not, they were Kids Next Door at heart.

She almost couldn't bear to accept their help. Almost. She was injured, not stupid.

* * *

As she began to come out of unconsciousness, the first thing that Fanny noticed was that she couldn't seem to move her wrists or ankles. The second was that there was something tight wrapped around her stomach. The third was the pounding in her head, and the fourth was how much that ache intensified when light struck her pupils.

"Mmph…!" she tried to groan, but she discovered that her mouth was gagged by a damp, spit-soaked cloth. Apparently she had been drooling.

Fanny squeezed her eyelids shut. Slowly, gradually, she opened them and let her pupils adjust bit by bit. Soon enough, she could see her surroundings with perfect clarity - it helped that her headache was dissipating.

The teenage girl was quite shocked to see her wrists bound together in front of her by plastic zip ties and her ankles likewise restrained. Coiled around her abdomen was coarse rope that tied her to the back of her chair… well, her seat. She was sitting in a bus seat. The bus seat of a _school bus_ \- and right on top of the wheel, too.

But that couldn't be right. The vibrations running throughout the vehicle were much too intense, and the noise was much too loud. She felt much more like she was on a rickety passenger plane than in a land vehicle, but her surroundings seemed to say otherwise. It was dark outside, so she couldn't tell anything from looking out the windows.

 _Wait…_ , thought Fanny in shock, _It's dark outside? Sweet rainbow munchies, how long have I been out?_

"Well, little Miss Muffet's awake," sneered an oily voice that made Fanny's hackles rise.

Her seat creaked and squeaked as she struggled and tried to shout, "Mm! Mmhmm-nm!"

There was only cruel laughter in response.

Cursing out her kidnappers evidently wouldn't work, so Fanny settled for glaring at them instead.

There were three men at the front of the bus. Two of them she recognized as the ones who had been brazen enough to take her right at her front door. The third was busy driving the vehicle.

"Sit tight, princess," said the one called Jim, "We'll be landing soon enough."

 _… Landing?_

She must have been hit on the head harder than she'd thought.

* * *

 _"Hey, Numbuh 5," greeted Numbuh 2 as casually as if she'd never been gone from the team at all, "Ready to go out with a bang?"_

 _Numbuh 5 chuckled and raised her hand for a fist-bump which was eagerly given by Sector V's 2x4 technology expert. Excitement shining in her eyes, she nodded, "Let's do it, baby. One last trip down the lane. Together."_

 **KND**

"Da-nah-nah, nah!" hummed Numbuh 4 under his breath, a challenging glint in his eyes, "Kids Next Door, da-nah-nah, nah!"

Numbuh 5 watched the blond boy stomp his feet as he marched ahead of her on the sidewalk, waving a M.U.S.K.E.T. around in the air with all the carelessness that she remembered of him. Any other time, she would have reprimanded him for mishandling a piece of 2x4 weaponry with such great disregard for caution. Today, however, she couldn't begrudge him this one allowance as they and the rest of Sector V prepared to kick off what was potentially their most daring mission yet.

The five of them soon arrived just outside the wrought-iron gates of the Delightful Mansion.

Their S.C.A.M.P.E.R. was parked a little ways down the street so as to be out of range of the manor's detection. Numbuh 2 had been forced to actually _drive_ the vehicle on the _ground_ to get it so near the property without notice in the first place. He was initially quite vocal about his indignation over reducing the armored airship to little more than a common camper - however, a sharp reminder from Numbuh 1 about the importance of their mission managed to humble the pilot enough to make him swallow the remainder of his complaints.

Numbuh 5 actually hadn't minded Numbuh 2's rambling. It had been so typical and so comfortably familiar, she had felt for a few moments as if she had traveled back to the height of her days with Sector V. Numbuh 4's excitable enthusiasm for whatever fight awaited them. Numbuh 3 happily spinning in her chair as she monitored the ship's readouts. Numbuh 2's geeky babbling as he flew the team to their destination. Numbuh 1's zealous paranoia and too-serious frown. The four of them and her, together, five children against the world. If time could stand still…

Her reverie was broken when Numbuh 4 asked almost whiningly, "How're we supposed t' get in there without gettin' blasted to bits?"

Numbuh 1 obliged him the answer, "Numbuh 5 has procured for us a prototype of a device that, suffice it to say, will make us undetectable to the Delightful Mansion's cameras. As long as we stay quiet, we'll be invisible to the manor's defenses."

At that prompt, she thought it prudent to remove said device from the side pocket of the yellow backpack she was wearing. The gadget didn't look like much. For all outward appearances, it was a common, grocery store barcode scanner with a tiny, low-resolution screen embedded in its top and a can of soda taped to its side. Cutting edge 2x4 technology in all its jury-rigged glory.

"That's one way to put it," commented Numbuh 2, "But it doesn't actually fool every kind of sensor. What it really does is make security footage run a loop of the past two minutes over and over again while the device is within range. How it hacks the system is kinda complicated, and Sector M hasn't released all their specs yet, but-"

"Booorrring," complained Numbuh 4 with a roll of his eyes.

Numbuh 5 interjected, "Stop complainin', fool. Numbuh 5 went through a lotta trouble gettin' this thing from the 2x4 nerds. Them engineers weren't willing to give up the newest version, but she managed to get the second-latest prototype, and it works."

Turning towards her with a pleading smile on his face, Numbuh 2 squeaked, "Can I see the L.O.O.P.E.R? Please? Pretty please?"

The almost thirteen-year-old girl's expression softened, and she passed the strange invention to the team's technology expert. He lifted it with the fascination of a child holding a sparkler in their hands for the first time. While he examined the construction of the device, Numbuh 2's expression came alight with excitement and curiosity. Unfortunately, he was interrupted by Numbuh 4's impatience.

"Are we breakin' in or not?" groaned the blond boy.

Numbuh 1 crossed his arms and flatly berated him, "Weren't you listening when I went over the plan? We have to wait for Numbuh 3's signal."

"Huh?" Numbuh 4 turned around and looked all about the group for their youngest member. When he did not see her anywhere, he asked, "Hey, where'd Numbuh 3 go?"

Numbuh 2 was shading his eyes from the sun as he looked through the gates to the Delightful Mansion's property. Spying their bubbly, black-haired diversionary tactics expert skipping her way up to the ornate front doors of the manor, he answered Numbuh 4, "She's on the mansion's doorstep."

"What?!" exclaimed the hoodied boy with great alarm.

Adopting a soothing tone of voice, Numbuh 5 placated, "Baby, she's safe. You don't see no lasers or missiles or nothing, don'tcha? Father an' the Delightfuls don't even know she's there."

"Yeah," nodded Hoagie optimistically, "Numbuh 3's totally covered. The L.O.O.P.E.R.'s cranked on maximum range. It's using up like five percent of its battery per minute in this mode, but we still have… uh..." He glanced down at the screen of the prototype gadget and puzzledly finished, "... Two burgers and some curly fries left?"

 _Ding~dong!_

The low, solemn chime of the Delightful Mansion's doorbell reverberated through the air. It reached Numbuh 5's ears as something barely audible, but it was enough to make her look at Numbuh 3.

Standing on the doorstep of the manor a hundred yards away, the girl whose oversized, green sweater almost fit her these days was frantically waving her arms over her head.

"There's the signal!" exclaimed Numbuh 5.

Numbuh 1 reacted almost instantly, barking the order, "Kids Next Door, go, go, go!"

He slammed the nearest gate open and held it as his teammates charged by with their weapons in hand (Numbuh 4 doing so with a slightly confused look on his face). When the last of them was past him, Sector V's leader let the gate swing closed and broke into a sprint to catch up with his friends. Numbuh 5 was in the lead, already halfway to where Numbuh 3 was awaiting the team. With their hearts beating at a breakneck pace and their feet spraying showers of dry dirt in the air behind them, the four children made excellent time to the face of the building.

Just before reaching the steps to the front door, Numbuh 5 peeled to the left at a sharp, right angle. Numbuhs 2 and 4 changed course to follow her, and Numbuh 3 jumped into the grass after them. Numbuh 1 quickly turned on his heels, skidding a few feet before recovering his stride and making a mad dash for the others.

The door opened, and standing ramrod straight in the doorway was the manor's butler, Jenkins. The perpetually frowning man wore an impeccable, well-ironed vest and dark trousers, and he was carrying in one hand a serving platter with a shiny, china tea set atop it. Upon seeing no one waiting on the doorstep, he questioningly raised a high-arching eyebrow. A light breeze ruffled the wispy tufts of white hair behind his ears as he looked to his left and then his right. He saw no one. By then, all of Sector V had already rounded the corner of the mansion, slipping themselves safely out of view.

Jenkins dutifully stepped back inside the manor with his platter of tea cups and shut the door behind him.

* * *

Numbuh 1 hopped down from the windowsill of the Delightful Mansion's kitchen and onto the hardwood floor. He smiled slightly when he saw the rest of his teammates ready and waiting.

... Well, waiting, if not quite ready.

"I still don't get it," said Numbuh 4 as he scratched at his ear, "Why'd we do it this way, again?"

With a sigh, Numbuh 2 replied, "Because there's a glitch in the new manor's security that carried over from the old one - the property's defenses don't register trespassers right after the doorbell is rung. And we sent Numbuh 3 for the ding-dong ditch by herself because unless the place is in lockdown or high alert, one person isn't enough to trip the driveway sensors."

"Okay…" responded Numbuh 4 slowly, "Then, why'd we have t' use this window?"

Numbuh 5 patiently explained, "Because we know that every Saturday mornin', the Delightful Children have tea at nine, and the butler always leaves the kitchen window open when he makes it. With him answering the door, that lets us get in without nobody knowing."

"Oh!" Numbuh 4 smacked a fist on top of his open palm, and exclaimed, "I get it now! That's actually really smart! What's the next part o' the plan, eh? When do we get to the part where we fight the Delightfuls?"

Numbuh 1 straightened his sunglasses as he answered, "The next part of the plan, Numbuh 4, is to find the Delightful Children and capture them for decommissioning. The mansion's layout is exactly the same as it was before it was rebuilt, so we don't have to worry about getting lost. We do have a deadline to consider, however, so it's in our best interests to find the Delightfuls quickly."

Skipping up to the doorway that led out of the kitchen and into a hallway, Numbuh 3 giggled, "Well, we aren't finding them if we just stand here, silly! Let's go!"

She went ahead to scout down the hall, and her teammates soon followed after her. Her boundless optimism invigorated them, prompting her friends to put new energy into the task at hand. Determined smiles stretched across Sector V's faces as they ventured forth to bring about closure both for themselves and for five children much like them. It was with courage in their hearts and resolve in their eyes that the five members of Sector V set out on their final mission together.

* * *

 _Fifty minutes later..._

The halls of the Delightful Mansion were as empty as they were exorbitant. High, Victorian ceilings, gilded ornaments on the walls, and countless marble busts couldn't make up for the haunting loneliness that pervaded the air. There was something cold, detached, and manufactured about the very essence of the place. It gave Sector V the creeps, but it probably suited the nefarious villains who resided in the manor just fine.

Dragging her feet as she walked behind Numbuh 1 with a bored slouch, Numbuh 3 whined, "When are we gonna find them, Numbuh 1?"

Sector V's leader did not respond directly, too busy anxiously rambling to himself, "This doesn't make any sense. We've searched the manor from the ground floor to the attic - every room, cupboard, and closet that Father lets the Delightfuls have access to. All surveillance footage suggests that they should be home... They're here, they have to be here. Why can't we find them? We should have found them!"

Numbuh 5 quickened her pace to match his and placed a hand on the bald boy's shoulder to halt him. As he nervously wrung his hands in front of his chest, he turned to meet her steady gaze.

She calmly reassured, "Hey, hey… Relax, Numbuh 1. Think about this thing logically. What places ain't we checked?"

Mechanically, he listed, "The butler's room, the basement, and Father's study."

"The study is on this floor, isn't it?" asked Numbuh 2.

Numbuh 4 frowned and responded pointedly, "Yeah, but Father's inside!"

Shrugging, Numbuh 2 countered, "That doesn't mean the Delightful Children aren't. It couldn't hurt to listen outside the door and-"

"Shh!" shushed Numbuh 5 with a chopping motion.

Her teammates fell quiet and tensed as they listened…

 _Creak._

 _Creak._

 _Creak._

With a tightened grip on her S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R, Numbuh 5 softly deduced, "That has to be Jenkins comin' up the stairs. C'mon, we gotta hide!"

The first to react was Numbuh 4, who turned the knob on the nearest door and pulled it open without a second thought.

He waved and hissed, "In here!"

Numbuh 2 rushed in, followed by Numbuh 3, Numbuh 1, Numbuh 5, and then Numbuh 4 himself. The blond boy shut the door quietly and then clicked the lock into place with his thumb.

It was with bated breath and nervous sweat that Sector V watched the door and listened to the soft footsteps on the other side pass them by. Jenkins walked at a brisk pace, very quickly moving in and out of hearing range. The children had ducked into this room not a moment too soon to avoid detection by the butler. However, their sanctuary was not all that it seemed.

Numbuh 1 voiced the realization first, "Wait, isn't this…?"

"Well, well, well," drawled a low and sinister voice that made the hairs on the back of the children's necks stand up on end.

They slowly turned around with wide-eyed dread to face the Kids Next Door's most dangerous enemy. The silhouetted figure of Father sat in the high-backed chair behind his heavy desk on the opposite side of the dimly lit room. The fireplace crackled behind him as its dancing, orange light cast the adult's shadow over the fearful faces of his intruders. He pressed a button on his desktop, and a metal portcullis fell down from the ceiling and over the door.

Sector V was trapped.

Now a captive audience, they collectively gulped and backed up against the cold, steel grating of the barrier between them and the exit. They were as far away from their menacing foe as they could be, but it wasn't anywhere near far enough. The children raised their weapons and slid their fingers over their triggers, but they didn't dare to fire.

Father crooned with a sadistic joviality, "Look who decided to pay me a visit today. _Sector V…_ Long time no see."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I'm sorry this chapter took so long to finish, but Junior year of high school is hitting me like a brick. I want to keep updating during the school year, and I will, but I have to emphasize that chapters are going to be pretty erratic in their frequency. It's probably going to be weeks and weeks between them, so be sure to follow if you want to know when a new one gets posted.

If I don't finish this story before summer vacation rolls around, I'll try to get back into a regular update schedule in June. Please review!

 **Edit:** I only just noticed that this chapter was missing line breaks before, but it's fixed now. So sorry if it was hard to tell where one section ended and another began! :( **\- 9/12/2016**

 **Update:** Next chapter is nearing completion. Should be posted soon! **\- 12/30/2016**


	10. Ch 9: Can't Hold Us

**Chapter 9: Can't Hold Us**

Cree, with one arm slung around Kuki's shoulders for support, gingerly lowered herself into the seat of a wheelchair. Moving from her bed to the chair was irritating the cuts under her mud-caked jeans and aggravating the purple bruises beneath her crusty sweatshirt in all the worst ways. Her broken bones had all been set, but the smaller injuries she'd suffered during her battle with the Executives were paining her more than she was willing to admit.

Hoping for distraction, she turned her attention away from her physical aches to the scurrying actions of her… _allies._

Kuki caught her sideways glance and offered her an amiable smile. Cree quickly turned away.

Someone bumped her wheelchair from behind. The young adult turned her head to her right and saw Hoagie hanging her IV bag off a pole on one side of the backrest.

He met her eyes and, as he took hold of the plastic push handles behind her seat, said with a cheerful wink, "Hello, ma'am, I'll be your wheelchair pilot for the day. We're expecting light turbulence, but no need to worry, I'm a professional! I hope you've paid your _chair fare_ , because we're next up on the runway."

The joke actually wasn't as bad as most of the others she'd heard from Hoagie, but Cree wasn't about to let him know that. She deadpanned, "Your sense of humor has gotten worse in the past three years, if that's possible."

A slightly affronted look passed over his face, and he opened his mouth to protest. However, Nigel interrupted before he got the chance. The bald boy directed them, "Numbuh 2, you and Cree are center formation. The rest of us will surround you to defend against guards."

" _If_ there are any guards," mumbled Mushi with suspicion.

Nigel didn't give any sign that he'd heard her, and he continued, "Numbuhs 3 and 4, take left; Tommy and Numbuh 4.4, take right; Mushi, cover our rear with demolitions. I'm on point. Kids Next Do- er…" he hesitated for a brief moment, " _Team,_ move out!"

* * *

As it turned out, there _were_ guards present at the compound. Scary ones armed with briefcases, earpieces, laser guns, and cheap suits. Ones who had more smarts than the typical Ice Cream Man or candy pirate mook. Ones who might have been a problem if there had been more of them; however, luckily for the children, they only had to fight off a handful of men.

The half-dozen adults who attempted to subdue them were themselves quickly subdued. They met with punches, kicks, chokeholds, mustard blasts, and hot sauce beams to the face, and all were quickly taken out by youths half their age and younger. Bodies fell to the floor, unconscious or wishing that they were. Hoagie made sure to run over one who was crawling after his briefcase with Cree's wheelchair, even as the ex-Teen Ninja that occupied it complained about the jostling.

That confrontation had occurred on the second subterranean floor. The kids and teens ran into no one else on their way to the surface.

Nigel kicked open the door to the hangar bay. They all streamed down a concrete staircase, most of them hopping two or three steps at a time. Cree held onto the armrests of her chair with a pale-knuckled death grip as it bumped its way down the stairs, Hoagie barely in control behind her.

Her voice warbled and wavered with every impact of the wheels on another step, but still she yelled, "You-u-u people-e a-a-are _cra-a-a-a-azy!_ "

When the chair at last made it to level ground, Hoagie apologized between tired huffs, "Sorry about that."

The hangar bay was dark, but the ship entry port was wide open on the far side. Through those massive openings, they could see rocky, hilly terrain and starry night sky. Moonlight glimmered like hope on the other side.

Sector V and company raced across the empty, concrete floor for that exit. Mushi deliberately fell behind the rest of them. The girl expertly took a handful of M.A.R.B.L.E.s from her pockets and flung them with all her might at the nearest support pillar.

 _Boom._

The tiny explosives struck true, blowing sour, mustard-flavored smoke everywhere and annihilating their target.

Groans of shifting metal and concrete echoed throughout the hangar. Mushi tossed another few M.A.R.B.L.E.s at the next steel pillar as she passed it. The resulting explosion sheared clean through the column, and the roof began to crumble.

One person made it outside. Then two. Three four five, six seven…

Eight.

Mushi was the last to escape, and, with great finality, she threw her last few M.A.R.B.L.E.s at the building before booking it after the rest of the group as fast as her legs could carry her. Behind the pigtailed girl, the hangar collapsed in on itself, taking part of the roof and walls of the main compound with it. A great cloud of dust billowed out into the air, heavily obscuring the view of anyone or anything that might have been watching the area that night.

The youngest Sanban allowed herself a small glance back at the pile of rubble that was her handiwork. A vicious smirk of satisfaction stretched across her lips and remained there as she continued running.

* * *

Hoagie wheezed and groaned with exertion as he and the rest of his friends and allies finally made it to the well-hidden recess in the side of a rock wall where they had parked the ship. Pushing a wheelchair up the side of a mountain was no easy task, and once the adrenaline had worn off, the journey had become an incredibly arduous chore.

The others began chatting and gathering at the base of the rocket as Hoagie leaned on the handles of Cree's wheelchair and caught his breath, much to the older girl's annoyance.

Unexpectedly for him, the wheelchair suddenly pitched forward, and Hoagie fell to the dry dirt with an oomph.

"Aaah!" he exclaimed, "Hey!"

Cree had rolled the chair away under the power of her one good arm. She moved quickly toward the rest of the group and steadfastly ignored Hoagie's complaints and accusations of rudeness as he trailed behind her.

Once everyone had gathered together, the alliance of eight ceased all the idle chatter that had cropped up in the aftermath and elation of the successful jailbreak. In the subsequent silence, they turned as one to look down upon the remains of the Executive compound in the basin below.

The dust kicked up by Mushi's explosions had mostly settled already. After what she had done to its supports and walls, the hangar was nothing but a messy pile of dented steel beams, wooden splinters, and chunks of concrete. The main building, however, had survived largely intact. Although its lights flickered and several broken pipes spewed water all over the place, most of the compound seemed to still be running.

There were surely more Executive mooks hidden somewhere inside the building's subterranean levels, but none of them had crawled up to the surface just yet.

Tommy frowned, "Does anyone else think that this was a little bit _too_ easy?"

Nigel nodded and tersely agreed, "Yes, quite. Either these Executives are the sorriest excuses for supervillains who've _ever_ come so close to defeating the Kids Next Door... or this was meant to be a trap."

"Well," interjected Wally, "If this 'ole thing was a trap, let's not stick around to spring it."

He turned around and marched back to the ship. Everyone else followed and waited as Wally pulled down the ladder. The blond boy climbed up first and opened the door for the rest of them.

There was a bit of fuss as Sector V and company figured out how to help Cree up the ladder while Joey packed her wheelchair away, but their preparations to leave were otherwise uneventful. Mushi kept watch to make sure no one would get a jump on them as they boarded the rocket, but all was quiet.

The night was warm, and crickets were chirping. It was fairly gusty in the general area, but the rock wall shielded their party from the worst of it. All in all, it would've been quite a lovely place if not for the Executive compound alarmingly nearby.

Well, if not for the Executive compound and the roaring jet engines of a C.O.O.L.B.U.S. zooming past overhead.

"What the-?!" exclaimed Hoagie in astonishment.

The bright, yellow, KND vehicle took no notice of them in their little alcove. It was descending toward the recently damaged compound in the basin below; however, upon catching sight of the ruined hangar bay, the bus altered course and landed on the grass just a little bit out of range of the compound's (probably) still-functioning cameras. The windows on the C.O.O.L.B.U.S. weren't mirrored, but at the distance away that the vehicle currently was, that made no difference in the slightest. Whoever occupied the ship would remain a mystery unless someone approached it.

Those of the group who had already entered their own ship immediately rushed back out, many of them bypassing the ladder and simply leaping to the ground. Cree did not exit the rocket, but given her injuries, that could be forgiven without difficulty.

"Who's down there?" wondered Kuki.

Wally tensely grumbled, "Somebody who's lookin' for a pounding."

Mushi retorted caustically, "We aren't picking a fight when there could be who knows how many people down there!"

"I-I don't think I wanna pick a fight…" mumbled Joey with concern.

Tommy asked no one in particular, "Do you think they're onto us?"

"Look," Hoagie pointed at the enemy vehicle, "Two guys just left the bus."

Sure enough, two adult-size figures had exited the yellow ship and stepped onto the grass. They conferred with each other for a moment before rushing off toward the rubble of the hangar bay. However many people had occupied the C.O.O.L.B.U.S, there were now two fewer.

"... Should we leave now?" Kuki questioned with uncertainty in her voice.

There was silence.

Then, finally, someone spoke.

"No," decided Nigel, "Not yet. We'll send a small team to get a closer look at that C.O.O.L.B.U.S. while the rest of us wait inside the rocket. If we decide to take action, a fast getaway may be in order shortly, so _everyone_ needs to be ready and on guard."

They were all nodding.

Wally asked bluntly, "Who's going down there?"

Nigel answered, "Numbuh 4.4 and I."

"M-m-me?!" stuttered Joey, wide-eyed.

"Yes, you," affirmed Nigel encouragingly, "A vehicle like that bus may hold Kids Next Door operatives prisoner. If that's the case, it'll be very helpful to have someone along who's actually still _in_ the Kids Next Door."

Joey hesitated at first, but then he quickly snapped into a rigid salute, barking, "O-okay! I m-mean, yes, sir!"

Kuki voiced concern, "Are you sure? Just the two of you?"

"We'll be just fine, Numbuh 3," Nigel confidently reassured her.

She offered her usual cheery grin in response before she became the first to climb back up the ladder and re-board the ship. Her sister followed immediately after. Joey scurried up the ladder next, stammering embarrassedly that he had to grab the G.U.M.Z.O.O.K.A. he'd left on his seat.

Hoagie stepped over a large rock and tried to make his way back toward the rocket as well, but he found himself held back by a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to see Nigel looking at him with an even more serious expression than usual.

The bald boy pulled him aside to speak with as everyone else ascended the rungs and entered the rocket.

"Don't connect that copied hard drive to the ship's systems," Nigel gravely intoned, "There's something strange about how easy it was to obtain that information."

The sudden change of subject had him off-balance for a moment, but Hoagie quickly recovered. He responded worriedly, "But it's the only lead we have."

"Then decrypt it on a computer that we can afford to lose."

Hoagie snorted, "Hah, of course. Because those just grow on trees."

Nigel clapped him on the arm, replying blithely, "I'm sure you'll figure it out, old friend. Just make sure that everyone else knows better than to try it themselves."

"Right," nodded Hoagie with professionalism.

It was then that Nigel surreptitiously conducted a visual survey of the surrounding area. All the other people from their party were already inside the rotunda ship. Nobody else was around. He could hear Joey's voice echoing a series of apologies from somewhere within the rocket, but the younger Beetles had not yet returned outside. Nigel slid a hand into one of his pockets, and his fingers grasped the edges of a thin slip of paper. However, he hesitated to pull it out.

So many secrets to keep. So many promises made in earnest. So many reasons to break them.

 _Someone has to be told,_ Nigel thought to himself, _They need to know where it is, in case I'm not here and they need it - or need help… And my team was_ there _when we finally managed to do the deed. Hoagie, Kuki, Wally... they already knows everything - everything, except for this. Sweet Seventh Age, I wish Numbuh 5 were here._

His friend noticed his distraction.

"Numbuh 1?" Hoagie lightly prompted.

He came to a decision then.

"Here," Nigel removed his fingers from his pocket and pressed the slip of paper into the palm of Hoagie's hand. His next words were grim and solemn: "In case you do have to leave me behind."

Behind his glasses, Hoagie could only blink in surprise.

"... Okay," he eventually responded, "But that's not gonna happen, Numbuh 1."

"Haha," chuckled Nigel. He smirked, "Of course not."

Joey interrupted from the top of the ladder as he was climbing down, "Sorry, sorry, I-I'm ready now!"

"Well, what are you two waiting for?" said Hoagie warmly, "Finish this so we can get outta here."

Nigel and Joey left quickly, and Hoagie joined the others inside the relative safety of the ship.

The first thing he did after he got on board was check the L.U.N.C.H.B.O.C.K.S. next to his seat.

"Hey, whaddya know? The Moonbase scan finished... Oh... Oh, wow."

* * *

The interior of the bus was brightly lit. Whatever was outside in the dark remained a mystery.

The rope around Fanny's abdomen was starting to chafe through her jacket. She felt that she would like nothing more than to be able to stand up, but she stayed silent. It wouldn't do to show her discomfort to her captors. She would prefer putting up with her bindings over having to tolerate interacting with the three disgusting men at the front of the vehicle.

While a part of her mind could not be dissuaded from focusing on her kidnappers, another part was busy reeling from the realization that she had, indeed, been flying. _On a school bus._

Her stomach had turned flips when the vehicle had begun descending and decelerating, and an icy chill had shot up her spine when the jarring impact of the bus' touchdown on Earth occurred. There was something extremely unusual and frightening about the airship - a _freaking airship_ \- she was in.

Now that she looked more closely at the bus driver's dashboard, Fanny noticed that there were far too many controls for a normal school bus. Levers made out of broken pool cues and walking canes stuck haphazardly out of the console and overhead controls in every which way. There were buttons that looked like actual buttons from a sweater, and random devices like calculators and alarm clocks were embedded next to the steering wheel by gum and duct tape. The driver himself was blocking her view of what else comprised the controls in front of him, but what she could see reminded her more of an airplane's cockpit than the controls to any bus she'd ever seen.

Fanny was disturbed and unsettled as much by the strange technology as she was by the whole 'kidnapping' situation.

When two of her captors exited the vehicle, she became tenser rather than relieved. Something was changing, and that warranted caution on her part.

The only one remaining on board with her was the driver, but he paid no attention to her, too busy speaking into a radio handset. He'd been at it for a few minutes now, explaining the same thing to several different people. "Yes, station B is a wreck, it looks like something exploded here, man. Hangar's completely gone, but the main facility seems intact…"

"..."

"They're checking it out now. I'm still on this stupid bus, guarding the target."

At that, he cast a brief glance back at Fanny, who stiffened under his gaze.

"..."

"Yes sir, awaiting orders."

 _Crash!_

Something fast and bullet-sized crashed through the driver's window, shattering the glass. Three more projectiles struck the man in the head, causing him to fall out of his seat and into the aisle. He was slumped over, unconscious - or possibly worse.

Fanny couldn't help it. She screamed - well, tried to.

The gag in her mouth prevented the noise from being as shrill as it could have been, but her screech was admirably ear-splitting nonetheless.

One of the projectiles which had struck the driver rolled down the rubber ridges of the aisle and stopped at her shoeless foot. Fanny, astonished, stopped screaming.

 _A stinkin' gumball?_ She thought, bewildered, _The hell?_

 _Bam!_

Someone's leather-shoed foot kicked open the bus' door.

A vaguely familiar boy her age entered the vehicle. Red shirt, glasses, bald - Fanny felt like she should recognize him, but her mind was barely processing what was happening around her. The world was a blur.

The boy jumped over the driver's body and rushed to her seat with a pocket knife in hand. She was too shocked react when he grabbed her zip-tied wrists and cut the plastic bindings, freeing her own hands. It took her a moment after he disappeared behind her seat to realize that he'd given her the knife and probably expected her to free her own feet next.

Reality reasserted itself, and Fanny leapt to work.

She lifted her knees to her chest to bring her feet up onto the seat. The zip-tie around her ankles was thicker than the one around her wrists had been, but the blade of the pocket knife still sufficed to cut through the white plastic.

As soon as her legs were free, Fanny set to work on the coarse rope around her stomach. However, she had barely begun when the restraint loosened of its own accord. She quickly realized that the boy who'd given her the knife must have untied her bindings on the other side of her seat.

Fanny stood and turned around to face him, tearing off the gag around her mouth as she did so. The rag which had silenced her was unceremoniously thrown to the ground. She firmly gripped the knife's handle and raised it in front of her defensively. Fanny slowly edged into the aisle and toward the back of the bus, keeping a number of seats between her and the stranger who'd untied her.

"Who the hell are _you_ , boy?" she questioned with a suspicious glare.

He wore an expression of angry incredulity.

"Unbelievable," he exclaimed with indignation, "Fanny, it's _me_ , Nigel Uno! We went to Gallagher Elementary together! Same class since kindergarten?"

She raised an eyebrow, tightened her hold on the knife, and replied flatly, "Not ringin' any bells, laddie."

He continued, "We're in the same world history, chemistry, and gym classes at McClintock High? I was your lab partner first semester? You know, the one who did everything while you were on your phone?"

She only continued to scowl.

Nigel crossed his arms and deadpanned, "Lizzie's ex-boyfriend from fifth grade?"

Her eyes lit up with recognition.

"Oh… _Oh, yeah…!_ " Fanny finally lowered the blade, only to narrow her eyes and attack him with sharp words, "Ye'r that try-hard history nerd who's with Abby Lincoln's bunch! The crud is a goody-two-shoes pansy like _you_ doin' mixed up in _this?_ "

"... Not how I'd put it, but yes," Nigel eventually responded with an odd look on his face that quickly disappeared behind a wall of grave determination, "And I'm here rescuing you, so stop threatening me and come on!"

He brushed past her purposefully and ran to the back of the bus. He pushed open the emergency exit, leaping out of the vehicle and into the dark. Fanny, after one last glance at her unconscious kidnapper by the driver's seat, followed him.

Fanny shook a stray curl of red hair out of her face as she ran out of the bus, gladly leaving behind its stale air and metal floor in favor of a warm breeze, loose dirt, and dry grass. She tailed Nigel and a much younger boy with blond hair and an orange hoodie very closely, keeping both of them within sight while her eyes gradually adjusted to the night. What on Earth a brat half her age or less was doing here with Nigel, she had no idea, but she bit back the urge to interrogate her rescuers while they were still in the middle of the rescue itself.

The trio kept to low ground as much as they could while climbing uphill. They took an extremely roundabout path that led them through the dips between hills and onto a rocky trail.

While Fanny intellectually appreciated the fact that they were keeping out of view of anyone in the basin below, her feet were killing her for walking over any number of bumpy rocks. She supposed that she might be glad the earth was dry and her socks weren't being soaked through, but honestly, she couldn't manage to feel grateful for anything at the moment. Not when the most pressing concern on her mind was cursing out the universe for withholding from her a pair of shoes.

"Bloody hell," Fanny swore as she struggled to pull herself over a meter-high ledge, "Where are we?"

Nigel brusquely answered, "Colorado," as he offered her a hand.

She took it with a grimace and grudgingly allowed herself to be helped up.

They continued walking, and Fanny grumbled as she wiped dirt from her hands onto the lapel of her jacket, "Would've grabbed boots and jeans if I'd 'ave known I'd be going on a godforsaken hike..."

The other teen snorted, responding amusedly, "I imagine you would have grabbed a _musket_ if you'd known you were going to be kidnapped."

"Aye," she stubbornly asserted, "I would've!"

This interaction between them was unexpectedly casual.

The child in the orange hoodie did not speak to her, but every now and then he cast a timid, backwards glance at her that was half fascination and half trepidation. After her eyes had adjusted well enough to recognize facial features under the silvery moonlight, she realized that the little boy strongly resembled another classmate of hers: a very brutish, stupid blond by the name of Wallabee Beetles.

When she asked about the relation, it was Nigel who confirmed her thoughts and introduced the kid as Joey. Either this 'Joey' didn't like her much or he was extremely shy. She couldn't quite tell which.

Once, she caught a snippet of a quiet conversation between him and Nigel.

"... Is that really Numbuh 86?"

"Yes, Joey."

"Sh-she looks a lot like her brother... "

"Mmhm, both of them."

"So then, a-are we going to…?"

"... Perhaps."

It wasn't long before they all lapsed into a tense silence; it lasted until they arrived at what was possibly the last thing Fanny would ever have expected to appear in the middle of nowhere in the Rocky Mountains.

Her eyebrows were making a decent break for her hairline when she exasperatedly exclaimed, "Ye got t' be kidding me! What basket case builds a cabin out here to look like a cruddy Victorian tower?!"

"It's not quite a cabin," responded Nigel mysteriously.

Frustrated, Fanny dismissively retorted, "Don't be daft, ye stupid boy. This place is _obviously_ some fur-trappin' lumberjack's mountaineering cabin that just looks like… actually…" she was given brief pause as her fury gave way to bafflement, "Kinda looks like - like tha' abandoned mansion on what's-it lane back home."

She stared up at the almost-anachronistic, red-domed structure with her brow furrowed in confusion. A thoroughly lost expression completely replaced her previous anger.

 _Impossible. Has to be coincidence…_

Fanny was snapped out of her still bewilderment when she heard Nigel call out her name. He was standing at the base of a metal ladder a few yards away. It hung down from an open doorway halfway up the side of the strangely Victorian cabin. Joey was already up at the base of the door and stepping inside.

Before he began climbing, Nigel said to her, "What are you waiting for? Come on or they'll find us!"

After he disappeared inside as well, she approached the ladder herself. Fanny grabbed its sides with both hands. The steel creaked, but it was smooth to the touch. It was also cool enough to chill her feet through her socks as she ascended the rungs with uncertainty in her eyes.

What awaited her inside the structure she did not know, but it surely had to be better than a kidnapping. Despite not knowing Nigel or his friends very well, Fanny believed quite firmly that they were good (if annoying) people. And yet, for all evidence to the contrary, Fanny somehow still had a distinct feeling that getting mixed up in a misadventure with Nigel might be far more trouble than it was worth.

* * *

 _Sector V was trapped._

 _Now a captive audience, they collectively gulped and backed up against the cold, steel grating of the barrier between them and the exit. They were as far away from their menacing foe as they could be, but it wasn't anywhere near far enough. The children raised their weapons and slid their fingers over their triggers, but they didn't dare to fire._

 _Father crooned with a sadistic joviality, "Look who decided to pay me a visit today. Sector V… Long time no see."_

 **KND**

Yellow eyes glared at the children from across the room. The silhouetted man to whom they belonged leaned forward, resting his chin over interlocked fingers as he propped his elbows up on his desktop. He revelled in the fear plain on the faces of the five preteens before him.

Father began speaking. At first, he kept his voice level, but as he continued, the adult rapidly lost any semblance of restraint, "You five… how _dare_ you trespass on _my_ property! Try to threaten _me_ with those silly gadgets... in _my own house?!_ "

He slammed a fist down onto the surface of his desk. _Bam!_ The sound echoed over the crackle of flames in the fireplace behind him.

Sector V stiffened and pulled closer together. Their fingers twitched over the triggers of their weapons. Numbuh 2 gulped and grimaced uncertainly. Despite their obvious advantage in numbers, the Kids Next Door simply didn't have much of a chance against Father when they were in a confined space full of flammable books and furniture. Experience had taught these five operatives that in a situation like this, their best bet would be to keep their opponent talking or distracted until an opening appeared.

So long as they were armed, they stood a chance.

Numbuh 2 tentatively raised his hand and stammered a reply, "Uh, we can just… leave, now, if this is a, um, problem?"

"Hm," Father scratched at his chin as he feigned consideration, "How about… _No._ "

He slapped an open palm down on the desk, and Sector V's 2x4 weapons were torn away from them by an invisible force. Even the gadgetry which had been hidden in pockets, sleeves, and shoes were ripped from their persons. S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R.s, M.U.S.K.E.T.s, S.P.I.C.E.R.s, the works - everything, even the L.O.O.P.E.R. hidden behind Numbuh 2's back, flew from the children's grasps.

The KND operatives gaped in shock, a burgeoning sense of horror weighing on their hearts as they watched their weaponry tumble across the room. The devices came to a rest on the floor, at the base of Father's desk.

"Uh-oh."

"Oh, no."

"Come on!"

"Not good, not good…"

"Hey, we need those…!"

With an ominous sound like a thousand snapping twigs, the logs in the fireplace were abruptly incinerated as the inferno blazed ten feet high and scorched part of the ceiling.

" _Silence!_ " Father roared furiously, "Do you brats think you can just _waltz_ into my office whenever you feel like playing _hide and seek_ and _get away with it?!_ "

No one dared to respond. In the immediate silence that followed his outburst, the flames behind him disappeared. The fireplace was empty but for smoke and ashes, and with no logs or attention from Father to fuel the conflagration, it simply died out. The room was plunged into a thick, burnt-smelling darkness.

"... Oh, poop," complained Father in a petulant tone that more befitted a six-year-old than a middle-aged man. He shouted out in the dark, "Hey, can one of you kids get the light switch?"

Numbuh 5 recalled spotting said light switch to the right of the door before the portcullis had fallen over that part of the wall. She reached through one of the gaps in the barrier's metal bars and fumbled around for the switch. To her memory's credit, her fingers met plastic almost exactly where she thought it should be.

The lights in the ceiling turned on and brightened the room considerably. All the eeriness which had been projected onto the setting by the flickering firelight promptly bit the dust under proper illumination. The office was still very grand and impressive with its rococo decor and showy bookcases, but the place no longer screamed 'no one will find your body' like a horror movie. It would have been a lovely room if not for the presence of the adult who occupied it.

Sector V was still blinking in surprise at the unexpected change in atmosphere when Father spoke once more.

He slouched in his chair and tetchily griped, "Okay, okay, so that one was my fault. Do you snot-nosed munchkins want a do-over, or can we just call this a day?"

The children glanced at each other with identical looks of confusion.

Behind his desk, Father pulled open a drawer and removed from it a half-empty carton of rocky road ice cream.

"Say what?" Numbuh 5 at last questioned disbelievingly.

As he removed his pipe from his mouth and set it down on the desktop, Father glared at her with annoyance, responding, "What are you, deaf? I asked if you brats want to go through with this whole charade or just leave and go back home. You gotta have _something_ better to do than harass me all morning."

"Is this a joke?" wondered aloud Numbuh 2.

"Nope," said Father, painfully sullen.

Numbuh 4 crossed his arms, asserting, "Oh, come off it, there's just no way!"

"Says who?" the adult retorted crossly, "Your Supreme Leader? Well, she's right there, and I don't care."

All wide eyes and innocence, Numbuh 3 piped in curiously, "So… you're retiring?"

Father, still cradling his ice cream to him with one arm while rummaging through another drawer for a spoon, shrugged and replied, "Sure. Let's go with that."

Dubious, Numbuh 1 exclaimed, "That can't be it. This has to be a- a trap or a plot or- or _something!_ What's _wrong_ with you?"

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with _me?_ " Father raised an unseen eyebrow and answered with an inflection full of self-loathing, "I'm a spineless, useless, cynical _loser_ whose life choices have revolved around making kids utterly _miserable_. I built up an _international corporation_ for the express purpose of doling out punishment to an organization of sticky _pests_ who won't remember a _thing_ I did to them after their thirteenth birthdays. I'm a pathetic _coward_ who's finally realized that _everything_ he's _ever done_ all amounts to diddly-squat! Zip! Zilch! _Zero!_ "

When Father finished ranting, he completely deflated. The man stabbed a spoon into his ice cream and carved out a generous portion of rocky road, which he then proceeded to eat with his shoulders hunched over and his eyes half-lidded in a downright pitiful expression.

The members of Sector V looked at each other, completely baffled. None of them could find words. What exactly were you supposed to say to an archenemy suffering from a severe mid-life crisis? 'You're not useless, look at all the pain you've caused us?' 'Yeah, you really do suck, now get over it so we can have our status quo?' 'So long as you're wallowing in misery, could you do it at the Arctic Prison?'

The silence lasted for several moments.

Then, Father paused in his consumption of ice cream to give the children a scrutinizing look and complain, "I swear, you grubby little monsters break in here so often, I should just give you a key."

"Er… The Kids Next Door would appreciate that?" tried Numbuh 1 experimentally.

Somehow, this prompted another confession.

"The Kids Next Door…" Father's eyes clouded over with an emotion resembling bitterness, or maybe grief. He sighed, "I really wonder if I made the right choice, opposing the Kids Next Door. What was I doing it for? … Oh, yeah."

He laughed sadly and continued, "Ha. Haha. I'm almost fifty years old, and I've spent most of that time planning the downfall of the brats who took my family from me, even after all their faces have changed six or seven times over," he closed his eyes, "Sometimes, I think… I think Monty had the right idea. Decommissioning. _Forgetting_ all this. It lets you grow up properly, lets you escape this crazy mess... Should've taken up that offer," he sighed once again, "... There's so much that I regret."

Listening to their worst enemy drown in rue and nostalgia was awkward for Sector V, to say the least. If not for years of struggle and conflict between the two parties, they might have felt sorry for him. As things were, the children neither pitied Father nor held much in the way of sympathy for him. There was simply far too much history between these five KND operatives and Benedict Uno for anything short of decommissioning to change the nature of their relationship, and that, perhaps, was the reason why he had opened up to them.

An idea was beginning to form in Numbuh 1's head. It was a risky, reckless, outrageous idea, but it was an idea to which he was already committing himself.

With only the slightest hesitation, Sector V's leader asked, "Do you regret delightfulizing Sector Z?"

The drop of a pin would have been as loud as a clap of thunder in the silence that followed that question.

Numbuh 1's teammates could only stare at him in horror as they registered what he had said.

Numbuh 5's thoughts were whirling in shock: _What in the name o' the Book of KND does Numbuh 1 think he's doing?_

Their hearts climbed into their throats when Father answered.

His words were hushed and emotionless, a quiet statement of fact.

He whispered, "Yes. I do. More than anything else."

Fears were somewhat allayed, and the opportunity before them was seized.

"Then I think you should know," Numbuh 1 continued at a brisk pace, "That we're here to capture Sector Z for a long overdue decommissioning. It will cure their permanent delightfulization. It will restore their normal aging process and wipe them of all memory of both their time as part of the Kids Next Door and as the Delightful Children From Down The Lane... All we need to know is where they are."

Father put away the ice cream, mumbling to himself, "So it really is hide and seek, then…"

He leaned back in his chair and pressed his fingers together in thought, very carefully considering everything he had been told.

After what felt like an eternity to Sector V, the adult responded, "I'll do it. I'll tell you where my Delightful Children are, but I want a promise out of you."

The KND operatives stiffened in apprehension.

Father spoke darkly and firmly in a way that left no room for negotiation, "I demand to know what happens to them. After it's all said and done - or tomorrow morning, whichever comes first - at least one of you brats is going to come back and tell me everything I want to know about the condition of my children. Do we have an agreement?"

The members of Sector V met each other's eyes, and, one by one, they all nodded.

Numbuh 1 looked back at Father and spoke on behalf of his team, "I believe we do."

Father seemed to smile with his eyes, and in that moment, the promise they were making, in many ways, felt exactly like a deal with the devil.

Suddenly, Sector V's attention was stolen by the pile of 2x4 weapons at the base of the desk when it slid across the floor and stopped just a few feet in front of them. They glanced back up at Father.

Numbuh 2 pointed and exclaimed, "Hey! That's ours too!"

In his hands, the adult held the prototype L.O.O.P.E.R. tauntingly. The KND operatives tensed.

"Is it?" Father asked insincerely, suddenly all cunning and guile, "But I haven't seen one of _these_ before. It looks new. Oh, well, it's insurance now."

Numbuh 5 protested, "This wasn't a part of the deal!"

"Tough luck," replied Father, "I'm just being pragmatic. If you want this thing back, follow through on your side," he set the device down on his desk before continuing with a growl, "As for my end of the agreement: my Delightful Children are in the basement. The access code is 1996Z. Now take your toys with you and _get out of here._ "

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Sure took me awhile to get this one done. Apologies, everyone! ^^ Anywho, please leave a review if you enjoyed this chapter, and Happy New Year to all!


End file.
